


Fissures

by alyjude_sideburns



Series: The Healing Trilogy [3]
Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Additional Warnings Apply, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, M/M, Other: See Story Notes, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-20
Updated: 2014-01-20
Packaged: 2018-01-08 23:45:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 55,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1138872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alyjude_sideburns/pseuds/alyjude_sideburns
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Story #3 of The Healing Trilogy.  See the end notes for more specific warnings that apply to the trilogy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fissures

**Author's Note:**

> I have to thank those readers who really wanted to read Fissures but couldn't get the zine. I won't go into how I came to NOT having a copy so it could be posted ages ago, but I will thank the many who worked together to get it, scan it, and send it to me in text form. The two primary people responsible for this - and the Bakari sequel - are Nat and Sheila. Thank you, ladies, from the bottom of my heart, and thanks for the helpful beta tips and catches!

 

_Prologue_

_1974 -_

Naomi stood quietly just inside her son's bedroom. She could see the top of his curly head on the other side of his twin bed. He was on the floor, wedged between the bed and wall; it had become his favorite play-space since she'd gone back to work. His curls were bobbing up and down as he played and she could hear his sweet little boy nonsensical noises he made that never failed to bring a smile to her face. She could picture him, legs splayed out in front of him, a book spread open on his lap, eyes glowing with rapture as he focused on the pictures, his lips moving silently as he sounded out words he didn't know.

He'd been so strange since their return from Yosemite, so quiet and withdrawn in spite of her attempts to get him to open up - and it had frightened her. He'd run away while on a camping trip with her fiancée, Mickey, and the thought of him alone in the woods - God, anything could have happened to him. But once he'd been returned to her, all he'd said was that a teen-aged boy had helped, brought him back and that everything was okay.

Listening to him play now, she wanted desperately to go to him, sit with him and maybe try to coax him outside. Reluctantly, though, she stayed where she was since she only had ten minutes before she had to go to work, her waitress job at the bowling alley beckoning. But at least Blair had Luli.

Naomi couldn't see the pup, but she knew the dog would be lying there, maybe across Blair's ankles, tail wagging as she watched her master's face, waiting for some sign that they would play - maybe chase or wrestle.

Frustrated, she glanced at her wristwatch and gave Mickey a mental tongue-lashing. He should have been here by now, he knew what time she had to leave. She sighed and immediately realized that Blair had heard because his curly head popped up, wide blue eyes peeking over the edge of the bed.

"mommy?"

She took a few steps inside and said, "Hi, honey. I was just checking in on you before heading to work. You okay?"

Blair nodded, his curls bouncing.

"Good. Mickey should be here soon so let me know what you want for dinner and I'll get it out and ready for him."

He'd dipped his head back down so she barely caught his mumbled, "...'roni n' cheese?"

Worried at the lack of excitement at the mention of a favorite dish, she frowned and asked, "You sure you're okay, sweetie?"

"'m fine. can luli have some too?"

"I don't think Macaroni and Cheese is very good for puppies, so maybe we should stick with her regular puppy food, okay?"

"she eats 'nammas and peanut butter."

Naomi walked over and sat on the edge of the bed and, sure enough, a large book lay open on his lap and Luli was indeed sprawled across Blair's ankles. She shook her head, a grin forming at the sight. "When did Luli have bananas and peanut butter, young man?"

"mmm, t'other day."

"Oh, really? And what did you have?"

"other half. it's im-portant to share. i shared."

Her grin went postal. "You shared? I'd have loved seeing Luli trying to chew peanut butter."

His small giggle floated up, followed by his now beaming face - and her breath caught in her throat at how wonderful he looked, eyes dancing again, his baby grin so infectious and in full bloom.

"was funny, poor luli." He mimicked Luli's tongue, making loud smacking noises, mouth suddenly like rubber and, at the sound, Luli perked up as she gave a little yip of agreement. It was a perfect moment, a moment to savor, a moment she knew she'd remember when Blair was all grown up.

"Naomi!?"

One yelled word - and the moment was fractured. Blair turned away, the joy wiped clean, eyes suddenly dark and shuttered even as Luli growled low in her throat. Not the most menacing sound, considering her age, but strange, Naomi thought.

"Naomi, where the hell are you?"

She got up quickly, ruffled Blair's hair and hurried to the living room.

In the hall, she met her soon-to-be husband, his face dark with rage, a red ball gripped in one hand.

"This was in the driveway and I nearly tripped over it. Didn't we agree Blair was to be responsible for his toys as well as helping around the house?"

In spite of the anger mirrored in his flushed face, his voice was cool, the words enunciated in an exaggerated tone that set her teeth on edge. Indicating the ball, she said sharply, "That isn't Blair's and you know damn well he hasn't been outside in days, not since our return from Yosemite."

Trying to sound contrite, he said, "If it's not his, then, okay, I'm sorry - but - aren't you running late?"

Nothing in his voice telegraphed any real apology but because she _was_ late, thanks to him, she said rather pointedly, "Yes, I am - you'll have to fix Blair's dinner. He wants mac  & cheese so just heat the leftover pork chops to go with it."

Mickey opened the front door, tossed out the ball, turned back, gave her an apologetic peck on the tip of her nose and answered almost cheerfully - his anger of a moment ago completely forgotten, "Sure, honey, no problem. Mac and cheese for Blair." His voice was now velvety soft as he ran his fingers through her hair and then down her cheek before leaning in for a more substantial kiss.

When they parted, he asked hopefully, "When do you think we can get together with Dr. Samuel about the ceremony?"

Naomi smiled delightedly and, as she encircled Mickey's waist, said, "I already called and we're scheduled to meet with him on Thursday at two o'clock. Can you make it?"

"Boy, can I! I'm sure I can get off early. Now you get to work and I'll take care of Blair."

By now, Mickey was almost jumping with joy, his handsome face alight, eyes bright with passion - all serving to leave Naomi shaking her head in wonder at the total about-face. It was almost like having two sons. She patted his arm, grabbed her purse, and said, "I'm off then. See you between ten-thirty and eleven."

As she opened the front door, she called out her goodbye to Blair and then hurried down the steps, the door slipping shut behind her.

Mickey pulled off his jacket, hung it carefully in the small hall closet and decided a beer couldn't hurt his promise to Naomi that he'd refrain from alcohol. After all, beer was harmless.

***

The moment Blair heard Mickey's voice, he'd tensed up, fingers gripping the book hard, almost tearing the pages. He scrunched himself even tighter into the corner as Luli turned her small body around and took an almost guard-like stance, ears back, hair standing on end.

When nothing happened, when all he could hear was Mickey whistling while he worked in the kitchen, Blair relaxed. Luli must have felt the all-clear too, because her ears popped up and, panting, she turned around and licked Blair's cheek.

Everything had been better since returning from the camping trip, but Blair was still wary, still having nightmares, and definitely still afraid of Mickey. But most of all, he missed Jimmy, the teen who'd helped him, listened to him, and held his hand.

His superman.

He closed the book and put it down, then invited Luli to take its place. She crawled happily up, more than willing to warm him, snuggle a bit, and do some more licking. It wasn't long before they were wrestling, Blair's giggles filling the room, Luli's small yips punctuating each attempt to swipe her tongue along a baby cheek.

"Blair."

They both stopped instantly.

"Blair, dinner is ready. Put the dog out and come to the table."

"Blair?"

"Blair...."

***

_Present Day_ -

"Blair...."

He jerked up, sleepy blue eyes opening only to blink rapidly at another set of blues staring down at him. He rubbed his face and asked, "What's up?"

"You fell asleep and I've been trying to wake you. The guys are on their way up." At Blair's confused look, Jim rolled his eyes. "Poker night? Hello?"

Blair sat up groggily and ran a hand through the tangled mass of hair as he looked about, surprised to see it was already dark, the loft warmed by a fire and the kitchen light. "Shit, how long have I been asleep?"

"A good two hours. You must really be wiped. Want to skip the game? I can make some excuse - and to be honest, no one will mind all that much, what with you always winning."

Blair got up, stretched, and caught the predatory gleam come into Jim's eyes. He smiled wickedly. "You did say the guys were here, right?"

Anticipation changed to disappointment as Jim nodded. "They're in the elevator now."

"Too bad. Of course, if I really put the screws to them, they'll leave early and maybe, just maybe, we can play a little poker of our own." He waggled his eyebrows. "High stakes, if you know what I mean."

"Sandburg, the only person you're going to screw is me."

Laughing, Blair tried to tame his hair by use of a one of his leather bands as he said, "Save the gutter talk for later. Like around nine when they give up and traipse out of here like the losers I'll have made them."

Jim reached across the couch and snagged his main squeeze, pulling him in for a quick kiss. "No mercy in this household, Sandburg. Now go change while I let our guests in."

As Sandburg shuffled upstairs, Jim watched uneasily. In spite of their bantering, he'd picked up the speeding heart rate and the all too-quick breathing that signified a very uneasy slumber. He listened to Blair undressing and heard him mutter, probably at his reflection in the mirror, "God, I look awful." Blair was changing his shirt when Jim heard their friends approaching.

He hurried over and pulled the door open before anyone could knock - or pound. Amid laughter and greetings, the detectives from Major Crimes poured in with Simon carrying the beer, Joel with the makings of his famous nachos, Martin and Megan holding bags of chips and more beer, Henri with his chili and, just behind him, Richard Perkins and Luis Maldonado, obviously pleased they'd managed to make it upstairs completely unencumbered.

As everyone piled in and food items were dropped on sinks and tables, Blair was suddenly with them, helping to get out the chip bowls.

Jim watched somewhat surreptitiously, worried because Blair's heart rate was still elevated - and it wasn't due to excitement.

Eventually, everyone took their respective places around the table, cards were shuffled and dealt, beer bottles were opened, nachos scarfed down, chips dipped and shop talked. Blair was enjoying himself, laughing, joking and winning, which allowed Jim to finally relax.

***

"Two."

Simon dealt two cards to Blair who slipped them into his hand, his face betraying nothing. Simon continued around; three cards to Megan, one to Jim, accompanied by a few rude remarks; two to Joel, Henri and Luis; three to Richard and Martin.

Everyone adjusted their cards, eyes moving cautiously around the table to spot poker 'tells' but Blair doubted anyone was as accomplished at it as he was - except Jim - _if_ he used his senses, which he never did. Blair noted that Martin was rubbing his chin; a sure sign that he'd gotten what he'd wanted. Megan was smirking which meant 'no go' and Joel was doing his best to hide his infectious 'I struck gold' grin. Rick was looking around the loft which meant he was going to fold, while Brown tried to look bored, which meant he thought he had the best hand. Jim sat impassively, like always, the only one who could really hide his 'tells'. Simon, while difficult, was nevertheless giving himself away. His two 'cigar-fingers' were twitching, which meant that he didn't pull whatever he'd been hoping for, but he was going to run a bluff.

Eyes sparkling, Blair grinned broadly and, as planned, his poker mates took as it a 'tell' and gave out with audible groans. Rick and Megan folded instantly, Martin thought about it for all of five seconds before throwing his cards in. Simon, who was now tapping the top of his cards, tried to stare Blair down and, when it didn't work, gave up any idea of running a bluff and folded. That left Joel, Henri and Jim to face Blair, with Joel the first to bet. He threw in a red chip followed by a gold. Jim and Henri called him but Blair, still grinning, raised another gold.

Joel's grin lost a bit of its glow, one of Jim's eyebrows rose in question and Henri started to look nervous, but all three called him.

"Okay, Hairboy, show us the cards."

Blair knew when dramatics were called for versus a simple fan of the cards, but he fanned them anyway - just very slowly.

Ace, king, queen, jack, ten...all red...all hearts.

"Shit."

"Fuck."

"Don't believe it."

"A natural Royal."

"Way to go, Sandburg."

Laughing, Blair reached across the table and raked in the booty, then watched bemusedly as Jim began to stack them in nice, neat little piles; exacting, precise, all matching - while the rest of the gang guffawed and snorted in spite of being used to this little affectation.

It was Henri's deal so while he shuffled, Blair stood and, still smiling, walked over to the fridge and got another beer. It was his fourth for the night, which for him was unusual, it being his habit to nurse one all evening. He popped the top and took a long drag, then walked back to his seat just as Henri finished the deal. When he sat down, he accidentally brushed his arm along the table and connected with Simon's bottle, thus knocking it to the floor.

"Way to go, Clumsy!" Perkins teased.

Simon scooted his chair back to grab the bottle before it could leak any more liquid out, but so did Blair - so hard in fact, his chair tipped over. Surprised at the sound, Simon looked up to see Blair backing away from the table, eyes shocked wide as he shook his head from side to side.

Before anyone could move or say anything, Jim moved to Blair's side, whispering soothing words. "It's okay, no big deal, buddy. Simon didn't lose much…come on, Chief, come on back...."

Blair's eyes narrowed as he focused them on Jim's lips, trying to understand the words and, when he failed, his shook his head some more and started murmuring, "Sorrysorrysorrysorry."

Jim touched his face gently. "Chief, come on, look at me."

Nodding, Blair frowned, looked around, and asked, "What happened?"

Relieved, Jim tried to shrug it off. "Nothing, just an accident. You really get excited when you win." Jim smiled down at him, his expression full of gentle humor, his concern well hidden.

"Oh, okay. And I'm winning?"

"I don't know, Sandburg, does wholesale slaughter count?" Simon added, his own worry hidden in the joke.

The others joined in with their own nervous laughter and Martin tossed a few kernels of popcorn at Blair to hide the fact that Simon was picking up Blair's chair. As Jim guided him back, Megan decided it was time for a little levity, so she called out, "Okay, gentlemen, the game is called, 'Spit in the Ocean.' Lets see how fast you yanks really are."

***

The loft was a mess.

Jim surveyed the junkyard currently masquerading as his home and, with a shrug, began to clean up. Everyone was gone, the night ending early in spite of Megan's attempt to save it. Jim heard the toilet flush, the faucet turn on, then off and Blair finally walked in, wincing at the mess.

"Wow, World War III would have been neater."

"So dig in."

"Right. Dig in. You wouldn't prefer cleaning in the morning? Bed now? Us now?"

Jim stopped his trash-stuffing to look over at his mate and smile, "You know I won't enjoy _us_ \- if this mess remains - you know that."

"Ah, yes, my little neat freak. Bet I can make you forget it, though. Care to make a wager?" He moved over to Jim's side, took the bag and let it drop, his hand already moving up and down Jim's inner thigh.

"You cleaned up tonight - chip wise - so now we clean up loft wise. _Then_ I clean you up off the floor, after having sent you to the moon - sex wise. Got it?"

"Shit, you really are anal. Okay, okay, we clean first, slave driver."

Blair bent over and retrieved the trash bag, mumbling all the while how "...Sentinels had to have clean territory and how no way in hell could he send him to the moon, sex wise or any wise...." which was all Jim needed. He grabbed Blair, threw him over his shoulder and headed upstairs, to the sounds of a snorting Sandburg.

Once in the bedroom, Jim dropped Blair on his back and, ignoring the laughter, reached down, ripped Blair's t-shirt down the middle, pulled at Blair's jeans, tugging roughly - not even bothering to unzip them. That's when Blair decided a lost t-shirt was one thing, but his favorite jeans ruined? No way. He batted Jim's hands, unzipped his jeans and, when they were finally gone, he let Jim remove his shorts.

"Can't send you to the moon? Isn't that what you said?" Jim asked while leering at him.

"Never. Never said it," Blair gasped out, his laughter choking his words.

"Ha! You said it and now you'll regret your harsh words, my fine young thing," Jim said as he twirled an imaginary mustache.

Blair's laughter gained new momentum even as he choked out, "At least...you didn't call me...a maiden."

"Too much hair - in all the wrong - or in my case - right - places." He leaned in close and, eyes darkening with passion, whispered, "I'm sending you so far - and going so deep - there will only be me surrounding you, in you, through you."

Blair's laughter stopped, choked off as he caught his breath at Jim's face. He shivered in anticipation, goose bumps rising on his arms. He gripped Jim's shoulders and started to pull Jim in for a kiss but Jim had other ideas. He clamped his fingers around Blair's wrists and pulled them up and over his head. Blair nodded his approval as Jim held both wrists with one hand while using his other to pull his own zipper down. Then Jim captured Blair's mouth in a searing kiss as he lowered his body until he was resting on top of Blair. The sudden pressure, the darkness, and the strange feeling of being smothered drove all his passion away as, gasping for air, everything went dark....

***

The Past -

_Blair felt himself being lifted in anger. The closet door was opened and he was tossed inside. He hit the wall, tumbled down to land on a sea of coats and jackets. The closet door was slammed shut and he was alone - in the dark._

_The small space was already cluttered, but the slamming of the door jarred items from the top shelf and they fell on him. Everything seemed to close in, to smother him...and he hurt so bad, and it was so dark...and all because of juice, just some juice he'd knocked over..._

_He reached out and tried to open the door, but it wouldn't move, it was blocked, and he was in the dark, and he couldn't breathe and he wanted his mommy, so bad, he was so bad, so bad...._

***

The sentinel part of Jim felt the difference, the change. Blair was no longer writhing in passion but instead, moving in panic. The moans of excitement had given way to groans of fear.

He lifted himself up to look into Blair's face - and what he saw, and heard, worked like a cold shower.

"Nonononono - mommy, mommy...."

God, another flashback.

Jim didn't have time to wonder where they were coming from - he'd save that for later. Now, he needed to get his partner back. He rolled onto his back, taking Blair with him even as he started to croon, "It's okay, whatever it is, it's over - gone. You need to come back to me, Chief," Jim pleaded as he cupped the back of Blair's head.

His words worked as Blair twisted slightly in his arms and finally lifted his head and asked, "Jim? What is it? What did I do?"

"Nothing, you didn't do anything. It's all right, everything is all right."

Blair looked around, blinking in confusion. He finally rolled off of Jim and sat up. He ran his fingers through his hair as Jim said, "You went somewhere without me, Chief. What do you remember?"

"I don't. I mean, we were, you know, and then - I couldn't breathe. That's it, I couldn't breathe." He looked at Jim and gave him a wry smile. "Guess you took my breath away, you stud, you."

Blair's voice was light but Jim heard the undercurrent of fear. He sat up. "Yeah, me, the big stud." He reached ovr and tenderly tucked some hair behind Blair's ear. "We've got to talk about this, Chief. This isn't the first…flashback. When you woke up earlier today, from that unscheduled nap, I know you'd had a nightmare...and then, earlier this evening, when you accidentally spilled Simon's beer...do you remember your reaction?"

Blair shook his head and looked away.

"Ever since Goddard's death, your sleep has been troubled more often than not. Now, I'm no expert in this kind of thing...."

That earned him a snort from Blair.

"Okay, maybe I am. So based on my own experiences - I think it's a safe bet that you're remembering more about Mickey and your time with him."

Blair shook his head. "No."

"Yeah." He ran a hand up Blair's arm in an effort to be more reassuring. "As you always tell me - we need to talk about this, get it out in the open, get to what's really bothering you."

Blair gave an exasperated shake of his head. "It's not Goddard. But you're right, I _am_ remembering more and the more I remember, the worse it gets because it always comes back to one person - Mom."

Jim had been wondering for weeks how long it would take his intelligent partner to question Naomi's role in what happened with Goddard. Blair had seen a great deal in his years with Jim - including child abuse cases. Too many. And he'd seen the one where one parent whose fear or need allowed them to deny the abuse was occurring to their child right under their nose. It was only a matter of time before Blair wondered about his mother and what she knew or didn't know. And now that he was - well, Naomi was still MIA. Which left him.

"You want to talk about it, maybe?"

Blair turned tired, bloodshot eyes to Jim. "Do we really need to? I'm guessing you're way ahead of me on this. On Naomi."

"Hey, what I think and feel is irrelevant. We need to talk about you - how _you_ feel."

Blair suddenly grinned. "How did you get so damn smart anyway?"

Jim tugged at an errant curl. "Years of hanging around you."

"Nah, your exposure to me has resulted in an increase in hair loss, maybe, but...."

Jim wasn't falling for any of Blair's misdirection in the form of humor. He continued to look at Blair expectantly.

Blair, seeing Jim's patience, sighed. "Okay, so I'm thinking...she had to have known." He dropped back on the bed, hands at his side, his left hand plucking at the blanket, tearing small tufts of the material and going back for more. "At the very least, she had to have had an inkling of what was going on, right? But it didn't stop...she didn't stop it...but really, she was just a kid...you know? And she...loved me... Oh shit." Blair could feel the lump forming in his throat and he closed his eyes tightly against the moisture.

Jim wanted to take him into his arms, but he knew it would be the wrong move now. Instead, he asked softly, "Tonight, what happened tonight?"

"I…closed in...remembered a closet. He threw me in and blocked the door. It was dark and a bunch of stuff fell on me and I couldn't breathe, couldn't move."

Shit. So when he'd dropped down on Blair....

Blair felt Jim tense next to him and, knowing the man as well as he did, said, "Don't even go there, man. It wasn't your fault. When this stuff comes, it just does."

"Okay, fine. So...why the closet?"

"I spilled some juice...and I think...I wanted to let Luli in."

"Do you know when this happened in relation to everything else?"

Blair grew thoughtful and, after several moments, said, "Yeah...it was after the wedding was canceled...I think."

"Right, I remember you mentioned that before. Okay, let's start there. What do you remember about that?"

Blair frowned as he tried to think back...to remember....

***

The Past -

_Naomi hung the dress on the bedroom door, stepped back and gave it a critical eye...but she couldn't find a single fault. It was perfect - it was her._

_Her wedding dress._

_It was an Empire style dress with puff sleeves and small, dainty cornflowers on a white muslin background. She'd wear a garland of daisies and carry a bouquet of wildflowers. The vision that rose in her mind was beautiful; outdoors, an all natural setting with azure skies, the twinkling blue of the bay in the background as they walked down a path strewn with rose petals. The gazebo would be draped with greenery and beside her, Blair would be wearing his new tux, his hair tamed and slicked back as he proudly carried the rings on the small pillow. His eyes would sparkle enough to rival the pristine blue of the pacific ocean._

_Mickey would be standing in the gazebo, handsome and loving, waiting to make her his wife and Blair his son._

_She gazed lovingly at the dress, at what it represented; a husband for her and a father for Blair...but more than that, it represented tradition. She could hear her mother's harsh voice when she'd learned of Naomi's pregnancy._

_"No man will marry you now, Naomi. No man will have you. They don't want a ready-made family, a woman with a child, let alone a child whose father is a mystery."_

_But she **had** found someone and Blair **would** have a father and a name. Not a made-up name, a real name: Goddard._

_She was just twenty-two, with a five year old son, and she needed stability. **Blair** needed stability. She needed a husband for that - soon, she'd have one._

_Naomi ran her fingers lightly down the material. Only two more days and she'd be walking down that path to exchange 'I do's'. Then she and Mickey would be flying off on their honeymoon, Blair right beside them._

_And boy, wasn't that proof of Mickey's love - that he was willing to take her son on their honeymoon? Wasn't it? How many men would be willing to do that?_

_Her expression changed as she frowned. The only blot on her dream wedding was her son and how he seemed so uncomfortable around Mickey. Maybe it was just that he was used to being the only man in her life._

_"mommy?"_

_She pivoted around to see Blair standing in the hall, wearing only the bottom of his p.j.s and trailing his blanket. His face was flushed and, with his damp curls clinging to his forehead, he looked terribly small and vulnerable. She hurried to his side. "Honey, what's wrong?"_

_"don't feel good, mommy. 'm hot and my tummy hurts."_

_She immediately knelt down and placed her hand on his forehead. He was way too warm. Worried, she said, "Okay, honey, I need to get the thermometer. Flight time."_

_The well-loved phrase failed to bring a smile to Blair's face. They'd been using it to signal that he should lift his arms so she could pick him up and 'help' him fly since he was two and had seen his first airplane up close. He'd say it to her, raise his arms, she'd pick him up and then twirl him around so he could pretend to be a plane._

_But tonight, he just held up his arms, eyes pleading with her to make it better._

_She lifted him easily and, as he settled on one hip, one leg wrapped around her back, the other around her stomach, he dropped his head on her shoulder and let his arms fall listlessly to his sides._

_Naomi carried him into the bathroom, fumbled in the drawer until she found the thermometer, twisted the cap off and gave it a good shake. Blair automatically opened his mouth so she could slip it in. Even sick, he was so good. Could any child be as good as Blair?_

_She watched him in the mirror as his eyes flickered with exhaustion, his face tinged pink with fever. She smoothed his hair back from his forehead and then started rubbing small circles on his hot, bare back._

_Feeling a small nugget of fear start to build in her stomach, Naomi told herself this wasn't serious. After all, Blair was never sick. Not really. The sniffles, sure, but he'd never had the flu or any earaches that plagued other children his age. He'd never even had a sore throat. He'd missed the measles, chicken pox and the mumps when they'd made the rounds of the neighborhoods and, even as a baby, he'd had the colic only once. Even teething had been easier than she'd been told. She'd used ice cubes wrapped in a washcloth and let him chew to his heart's content._

_Okay, time to check the thermometer. She pulled it out and was horrified to see it registering 101 degrees. She moved quickly into his bedroom, laid him down, covered him and told him, "I'm going to get baby aspirin and some water, okay? But I'll be right back, sweetie."_

_He nodded listlessly and watched her disappear._

_A few moments later she was back and, after sitting down on the bed, she lifted him slightly and let him down the pink pills, put the glass to his lips and watched as he lapped up the water. She was about to lay him back when he said, "more, please?"_

_"You got it, honey. Be right back." She almost ran to the bathroom, filled the glass, wet a washcloth and ran back, sloshing the water as she moved. She placed the cloth on his forehead and let him drink some more. "It's okay, sweetheart, you'll feel better in the morning."_

_He nodded and dropped back down, but was up again and moaning. "sick, gonna be sick, mommy." Even as he said it, he threw up, his body jerking as he tried to lean over the edge of the bed._

_"sorrysorrysorry...."_

_Exhausted, he dropped back, panting out the words._

_"Hush, honey, it's okay. I'm going to get a bowl, be right back." Naomi hurried out to the kitchen, pulled a large plastic bowl from the bottom cupboard, filled it with a bit of water and hurried back into the bedroom to discover that he'd thrown up again._

_For the next few hours, that was Naomi Sandburg's world._

_By three in the morning, with a temperature up to 103, she was worried enough to call Blair's pediatrician. She got the service and begged them to call Dr. Swain immediately. Fifteen minutes later the doctor was calling back to say he'd be right over._

_When Mickey got back from his night out with the boys, it was to an exhausted Naomi and a very sick little boy. He managed to hide his exasperation and even offered to relieve Naomi, knowing full well she'd never turn over the care of her son to him. Eventually he fell asleep on the couch._

_Saturday was spent caring for Blair as he alternated between fitful bouts of sleep, high fevers and vomiting._

_By two in the afternoon Naomi knew the wedding would have to be postponed._

_As Blair drifted off, following another bout of vomiting, Naomi left his bedside and joined Mickey in the den where he was working on his computer._

_"The kid okay? Any better?"_

_"His temp is better but he still can't hold anything down." She sat down opposite him and said, "Honey, we're going to have to postpone the wedding, maybe reschedule for next week."_

_He shut down the program to stare at her in surprise. "Postpone? But why? He's going to be fine, kids always bounce back. There's absolutely no reason to postpone. None."_

_"Mickey, he's sick and we can't leave him. Children may bounce back, but they have to get well first and Blair is far from well. The doctor said this type of flu is very dangerous for children and the only reason he's not in the hospital is that St. Francis is full. But he warned that if Blair's temperature didn't go down by today, he'd admit him even if he had to move someone else into a closet."_

_She got up and walked nervously to the sliding doors, opening them to let Luli in. She picked her up and, holding her to her face, crooned, "He's sick, Luli, so you can't see him right now." She turned back to her fiancée. "He's improving but he's far from well. We have no choice, honey."_

_Damn. That kid was going to be the death of him one of these days...always screwing up his plans, getting between him and Naomi...but he had to be careful, had to appear to be the perfect daddy._

_"I guess you're right. I'm still pretty new to this father business. So do you want to start making the phone calls or shall I?"_

_Fuck, he couldn't wait to tell his boss. Rick Leonard was a bastard under the best of conditions - but telling him that he wouldn't need the vacation now…time that Rick had created by rearranging the entire office schedule...yeah, he was dead meat, thanks to that brat of a boy._

_But he wouldn't get off so easy this time, he'd fucked up Mickey Goddard's life one time too many._

_***_

_Naomi smiled as Blair chomped down on his toast. It was Monday and, after one hell of a weekend, Blair's temperature was back to normal and he could hold food and liquids down. He was as weak as a kitten and even needed her help to get to the bathroom, but he was definitely on the mend. And from the look on his face, thoroughly enjoying his cinnamon toast._

_The wedding had been canceled - not postponed - and Mickey wasn't dealing with it well at all. Not that it was anyone's fault that Dr. Samuel wouldn't be available for over a month. But Mickey hadn't wanted to hear any of it. She could still hear him as he'd yelled his dissatisfaction, causing Blair to curl into a tight ball and pull the covers over his head. She was almost glad Mickey had gone to work, even though he wasn’t scheduled. Peace was good._

_***_

_Blair didn't want to read anymore, he wanted Luli. But he knew better than to ask. Mickey was still mad about the wedding and Blair didn't want to give him another excuse to yell. His mother and Mickey had been fighting for three days now and he knew it was his fault. Mickey didn't care who married them, as long as they got married but his mommy only wanted Doctor Samuel to do it._

_The slamming of the front door startled Blair and he realized that Mickey had stormed out of the house again. He wasn't sure what day - exactly - that it was, only that he felt a lot better and could eat toast and cereal and even chocolate milk. He was pretty sure the weekend was long gone now, that maybe it was the middle of the week - which meant that they all should have been on something called a 'honeymoon'. But they weren't. Because of him._

_He really wanted Luli, but she was being kept outside, in the back yard. He needed to hug her and hold her, but if he asked and Mickey got mad again...maybe his mommy would leave him and go off with Mickey and he didn't want that._

_Mickey was always saying how she would - one day - if he weren't good. But he **was** good, would **be** good._

_***_

_Mickey was barely speaking to her and Naomi was starting to get mad. For one thing, his attitude was hurting Blair. His yelling had to be scaring her son - she'd noticed how, when Mickey was around, Blair wouldn't even call for her to help him if he needed to go to the bathroom. He wasn't asking for any special foods, or for water glass to be refilled or even for Luli. He just napped, looked through his books or played quietly in bed with his cars, robots and Lego's._

_She checked her watch and realized how late it was. It was Thursday and they should have been happily married and on their honeymoon - but they weren't - and she knew she'd made the right decision, no matter what Mickey said. Just then, she heard the front door open - and then it was slammed shut, hard enough to shake the small table beside her._

_He strode into the living room, gave her a disgusted look, threw his coat and keys onto the chair and then stalked into the kitchen. When he came back out, he had an ice water. He dropped onto the couch, looked at her again, and said, "I got fired. That bastard Leonard fired me."_

_She got up instantly and moved to sit beside him. "Oh, God, Mickey, why? How could he?"_

_"He doesn't need a reason, Naomi. He's a schmuck, you know that." He finished the bottle of ice water and threw it at the wall with a loud, "Fuck!"_

_She resisted the urge to clean up the water and, instead, placed a hand on his arm. "Okay, so you go to Macrodyne like you wanted to months ago. They courted you first anyway, so I'm sure they'll want you now."_

_"Don't be an idiot. They filled that position months ago. I chose to go with Legionware and that's all there is to it. Besides, Leonard will make sure I don't get a job anywhere. You know how they all stick together. It's over for me here."_

_In spite of her upbringing, Naomi was, by nature, an optimistic individual and she truly believed that there was nothing that couldn't be turned around. She was a true child of the sixties and believed in peace and love with all her heart. To her, life was an adventure and there was good everywhere. This newest wrinkle in her life was just that - a wrinkle - and one to be ironed out._

_She squeezed his arm reassuringly. "We're okay, for awhile anyway, and I'm sure Roger will take me back at the diner. So, until you find another job, I'll just have two. My tips should keep us solvent and, with Blair starting kindergarten in a couple of weeks, we won't have to worry about a babysitter while you look for work. We'll be okay, we will."_

_She put her arm around Mickey's neck and pulled him to her, capturing his lips with her own. As the kiss deepened, they both heard a thump from Blair's room. Kiss and reassurances forgotten, Naomi was up and moving in an instant._

_Mickey growled in frustration as Naomi rushed from his arms. Damn that kid._

_***_

_Naomi hurried down the hall and, on entering Blair's room, she found him pulling himself up from the floor._

_"Honey? What happened? Did you fall?" She knelt beside him, hugging him to her as she felt his head moving in the negative._

_"no, no, didn't fall, kinda didn't fall - needed to go…to the bathroom."_

_His heart was beating so hard, she could literally feel it through his thin t-shirt. Almost as if he were afraid. "Honey, you're still weak, it's all right, it's normal. You had quite a bout with the flu. Now come on, let me take you to the bathroom."_

_He shook his head. "no, no, i can do it, honest. going now." He pulled himself away, got up, and shuffled into the hall and then the bathroom, closing the door firmly behind him._

_Naomi shook her head. Sometimes...she really didn't understand her son. But then she smiled, because understanding him or not, he was the sweetest baby in the world and she loved every nook and cranny of him._

_***_

_Friday -_

_Blair sat on the floor in the den, hands and face pressed against the sliding door as Luli, who was on the other side, wagged her tail and pressed her nose against the glass, fogging it up. Mickey was in the living room watching the news and had already told Blair that Luli had to stay outside and that no, Blair couldn't go out and play yet. But Blair knew he was all better, he was. He was eating peanut butter and drinking juice and eating cereal, and he could go outside - he could. But Mickey wouldn't let him. He was allowed to stay in his room or the den and, since he wanted to be near Luli, he'd chosen the den._

_"Blair, it's time for your nap." He stood just inside the door, arms crossed and his perfectly groomed goatee looking almost accusing._

_"couldn't luli come in? take a nap with me? i'm better now, please?"_

_"Luli will stay out and you will stay in. We canceled our wedding for you, young man, and you **will** get well - so as long as I'm home, that dog stays outdoors. Besides, she drives me crazy. Now, get into your room and take your nap."_

_Blair turned to plead again and his arm brushed against the glass of juice, which was on the floor next to him. It fell over and the orange liquid spread slowly over the pale wheat-colored carpet_  
.  
Mickey moved so fast, Blair didn't have a chance to prepare himself. The man reached down, plucked him up, stuck him under his arm, marched into Blair's room, slid the closet door open and tossed Blair inside. He then slammed it shut and stuck a coat hanger in the groove to keep it shut.

_"When I tell you to do something, you **do** it, you understand me? If you'd behaved, you wouldn't have spilled the juice. Now you stay put until I let you out!"_

_Angry footsteps retreated and Blair heard another door slam shut. He was now alone - in the dark._

_He didn't move, didn't dare, but he did whisper over and over again, "mommy, i'll be good, promise, be good, please, let me out...."_

_No one came._

_She would leave him now, he knew it. Mickey would tell her and she would be gone. She would go away with Mickey and then what would happen to him, where would he go? Who would love him?_

_"mommy, don't leave, please...be good for you, be good...be so good...."_

***

Jim walked quietly upstairs, a tray of food in his hands. After telling him what Blair could remember, they'd talked and even tried to reach Naomi again. Unfortunately, they were unsuccessful - again. All they were able to do was leave a half dozen messages with her friends. Finally, Blair had fallen asleep in Jim's arms and, as he slept, Jim watched. But eventually, he knew he'd have to wake Blair up, get some food into him, so he'd carefully extricated himself and gone downstairs to make something to eat.

He set the tray down on the dresser and sat down on the side of the bed opposite Blair. He looked so peaceful, no mutterings, no uneasy movements, just a deep, good sleep. Jim gazed at the face he loved so entirely...and then absently pushed a bit of fallen curl back from the cool forehead.

Blair stirred, his hand shifting out from under his pillow as he rolled onto his back. He opened his eyes, blinked blearily, spotted Jim and smiled. "Guess I slept."

"Yep, you did."

Blair hitched himself back against the rail and said, "This is so weird, Jim. I keep getting short flashes, then entire periods, followed by more short flashes." He rubbed at his jaw. "I wouldn't mind so much if feelings I'd rather not re-experience didn't come with the flashes and memories."

"I know, I know. I just wish Naomi would answer because the two of you really need to talk, Chief."

Blair shrugged. "She's afraid...and ashamed, so she's dealing with it the only way she knows how - by leaving. My best guess is that she's somewhere she can't be easily reached. You know, no phones or televisions. In spite of her appearance that day in the bullpen, when you and Simon pulled that academy thing, she wasn't happy with it. She hates the very idea of me being a cop and that, combined with her own feeling of being responsible...well, it could be a while before we hear from her, you know?"

Jim refrained from answering because his answer would have been far too honest. Instead, he got the tray from the dresser and set it on the bed. "Let's get some food into you." He picked up one of the turkey sandwiches and waved it under Blair's nose. "Your favorite...with chips, fruit and beer. A gourmet's delight."

"Uhm, Jim? It's the middle of the night."

"So? Eat."

Blair wasn't fooled by Jim's attempt at misdirection, but he didn't want to burden him anymore than he had...because...after all, how long would they last if things continued as they were? Blair had already been more trouble than any wife, father or brother combined - so he took the sandwich and made a show of taking a bite while rolling his eyes.

"Damn, you're turning into a half-way decent cook, Detective Ellison. You're going to have to watch it, your reputation could suffer."

"Yeah, so don't tell anyone." Jim leaned in. "And since I trust you, I'll let you in on my secret ingredient...of course, once I do--"

"I know, you'll have to kill me. Shoot."

"Cheese. American Cheese."

"You're so pathetic."

***

The next two days passed in quiet desperation for Blair as he worked hard to keep his dreams and memories under control. An unreasoning fear had blossomed in the pit of his stomach, forcing him to keep up appearances. Normal, normal, normal. But it was kind of ironic if he allowed himself to really think about it - the same fear that had stopped him from telling his mother about Goddard, was now keeping him silent with Jim. No more talks in the middle of the night for them, no sir. Everything was peachy keen.

Did anyone say that anymore?

No matter. He knew what Mickey had done - so be it. He was thirty years old, for God's sake - he could deal. Had to deal. Because if he didn't - Jim would - maybe--

"Sandburg? Where's your mind?"

Blair turned his head in the direction of the voice and found Jim staring at him, a report in his hand. "Sorry, what were you saying?"

"The Evanston case? Ring a bell? Did you get that info on the broach?"

Blair fumbled with a few folders until he found what he was looking for and then handed it to Jim. "Here you go, and I was right. It's an antique, shouldn't be too difficult to find."

Jim took the folder and, as he read, he managed to sneak a few looks at his partner. In the last two days, Blair had seemed okay, certainly better - but any attempts at further discussions had died on the vine. He dropped the folder and said, "Good work, Chief. You just may make a cop one of these days."

"Yeah, well, I've had a great teacher, coach and mentor." He paused a beat before adding, "Simon's terrific."

"You little shit."

"Who you calling shit?"

Jim bopped him one with the folder. "You, that's who. Come on, let's go interview Mrs. Wilkins again. I still say she knows the whereabouts of the broach."

*****

The interview had gone better than hoped, with Mrs. Wilkins offering up a confession regarding the theft of the broach - after Jim zeroed in on her vitals and hounded her until she gave up. Unfortunately, that still left them with a murderer.

As Jim swung onto Prospect, a small dog ran out onto the street, directly in the path of the truck.

"Jim!"

He swerved hard left and the truck slammed into the curb. Before Jim could even blink, Blair was out and running back to where the small dog lay - unmoving.

Blair knelt down, heart in his throat. The tiny black and tan pup lifted its head, liquid brown eyes looking lost and hurt. Blair ran a hand gently down the coat, then looked up when Jim's body blocked out the sun.

"I think we hit her, Jim...did we, did we hit her?"

Jim stooped down on the other side of the pup and laid his hand on the heaving chest. He listened, then ran his hands carefully up and down the dog's body before saying, "No, but she _has_ been hurt, Chief."

"We've got to do something, take her to a vet, now." Even as he spoke, he was pulling off his coat and carefully slipping it under the dog's body, "Can I lift her, Jim?"

"Yeah, just be very careful."

As Blair lifted the animal, Jim ran back to the truck, climbed in, put it in reverse, backed off the curb and swung it around to Blair, who climbed in, bundle close to his chest.

"Hurry, Jim, hurry. The nearest animal hospital is on Fifth, at Rosemead."

***

Jim sat in the waiting room and watched his partner pacing. Shoulders were slumped and he was staring at the floor as if it held all the mysteries of the universe. He hadn't said a word since the assistant had taken the puppy from his arms over twenty minutes ago and, now, as Jim studied him, a memory surfaced from months ago. Blair, playing on the floor, joined by Martin...and then Blair explaining how we keep those we love inside of us, forever...like...what was the name of the dog? Luli. That was it. Luli had died...she'd been...run over....

Shit

"Mr. Sandburg?"

Both men looked up as a tall man in green scrubs came out of the examining room. Blair nodded and said, "I'm Blair Sandburg. How's the puppy?"

"She's going to be fine. A couple of bruised ribs and, from what I can see, she wasn't hit by a car. More likely kicked by someone."

Blair flinched at that but recovered quickly. "Does she, do you...will she have to stay?"

"Not if you know her owners?"

Jim stepped in then and spoke clearly, "We don't have a clue, but if she needs a safe, comfortable environment, we'd be glad to take her. Until we can find them, the owners, that is."

Blair shot him a surprised but grateful look as he said, "Although, maybe her owners don't deserve her. We might not try too hard."

The doctor smiled before adding, "I understand completely. She's underfed and slightly dehydrated, but she's clean so I don’t think she's been on the streets too long. A few hours at most. She'll need some care and she has a slight ear infection."

"No problem, Doctor, no problem at all," Jim assured him.

The doctor looked from one to the other...and finally nodded. "Very well then. I'll have my assistant bring her out, along with some medications - and my bill." He smiled gently though when he added, "She's all yours, gentlemen."

***

"Thank you, Jim." Blair sat back in the truck, a sleeping puppy in his lap.

"No thanks necessary. She's kind of cute. Reminds me of you."

"If my hands weren't full...."

"Yeah?"

"Never mind. I don't need my hands for what I'm going to do in retaliation for comparing me to a dog. Like...tell every single detective in Major Crimes about your little Gerber's mashed peas fetish?"

"Aw, come on...you love 'em too...and let's face it, you have the exact same puppy dog eyes, except yours are blue."

"And here I thought it was the wiggling tail."

"That too, Chief, that too."

***

The spare room, which had become an office/exercise room of sorts, was now ready to welcome its newest guest - but as Jim came out, prepared to carry the pup into her new home, he found the living room empty. He frowned until he zoomed in on the cooing sounds coming from upstairs.

_"That's it, baby. Lap it up...it's good for you."_

Blair was upstairs - with the puppy. Jim shook his head in surrender. He should have known. He climbed the stairs and stopped dead at the top.

Blair sat in the middle of the bed, the puppy languishing on his lap, thoroughly enjoying a finger-feeding. Blair dipped his finger in the puppy mush he'd made, then held it to the puppy's mouth, at which time she would lap it up. He really needed a video camera.

"What, the spare room isn't good enough for our guest?"

Blair looked up smiling. "In a word? No. Do you mind?"

Jim grinned as he joined his now enlarged family. "Would it matter if I did?" he joked.

Blair looked down, allowing his hair to fall forward and obscure his face. "It would, yes."

Jim began to stroke the soft fur as he answered, "I didn't mean it that way, Chief, you know that."

"I...yes, I know. But it would matter. I'd take her back to the vet, if you minded." He didn't look up as he spoke, just kept feeding the puppy.

Jim watched, fascinated, as the dog lapped away. "You know what I think? I think we should just keep her. What do you say to that?"

"Yeah?"

Jim nodded. "Yeah. She's ours - period. So - we need a name."

"The vet couldn't quite decide what she was. What do you think?"

Jim tilted his head first one way, then another, taking great pains to study the pup from every angle. The puppy seemed to understand something important was about to happen because she stopped eating long enough to favor Jim with a serious look - as if he were about to decide her fate.

"Uhm...definitely some German Shepherd, right? And something smaller...because she has very small paws. Also, her eyes are lighter than most dogs, almost golden. Maybe some type of terrier? Terrier/shepherd mix?"

"Yeah, that's what I think too."

"So, name?" Jim asked.

"Well, given our jobs - us being so macho and all," he ignored Jim's snort, "I think Taffy is out...although I'd love to see you in the park calling out wistfully, 'Taffy! Taffy, get your butt back here!', you know?"

"Fat chance, buddy. Okay, so the name has to be big, brawny and macho. So...how 'bout Belle?"

Looking shocked, Blair shook his head. "First of all, Belle isn't even remotely macho and second, didn't you ever have a pet? You have to give them a two syllable name that ends in 'y' or 'ie', like this...now watch."

He leaned over and crooned, "Want some more dinner, Belle?"

The puppy just blinked back at him. Then he repeated the question, in the same crooning manner, but with one significant change. "Want some more dinner, sweetie?"

This time, she thumped her tail - hard.

"See? y or 'ie'."

Impressed, Jim offered, "Okay, how about...Katie?"

The tail went into hyperactive mode.

"I do believe you just named our dog." He looked into her eyes. "Well, Katie? What do you say?"

Double thumping answered him even as 'Katie' leaned into the bowl for more mush - and ended up with a mush-covered nose. Both men laughed, enjoying the feel of it, the ease of it. Jim thought maybe things were going to be all right after all.

He should have known better.

***

Blair woke up yelling and thrashing around in the sheets.

Jim woke up immediately and tried to grab Blair, to control him before he hurt himself. He finally got him into his arms and held on tight while reassuring him with soft words.

Blair finally responded and he stilled - then stiffened. "Jim?"

"Yeah, buddy, it's okay. You had another nightmare. Do you remember any of it?"

Blair pulled away, almost in a panic. "Where's Katie?"

"Right next to you, on the floor. I made a bed for her, remember? From your clothes? See? She's all cuddled up."

A yip from below seemed to give credence to Jim's words but Blair still leaned over to check for himself. Satisfied, he still got down with her and started to pet her.

Jim couldn't fail to notice the slight tremor in Blair's hands even as Blair tried to hide the fact by burying his fingers in the fur.

"Can you tell me about this one? Was it about - Luli? That was her name,  
right?"

Blair nodded but said nothing.

"After you were injured and regressed, well, you told Martin something about Luli being run over. Do you remember that now?"

Blair looked up, frowning. "Run over? I think...yes, Luli...."

***

The Past -

_Blair heard footsteps approaching and then the closet door slid open. He blinked at the sudden harsh light, holding up his hands in front of his eyes to shield them._

_"Have you learned your lesson? That if you'd done what I said, if you hadn't argued, none of this would have been necessary." Mickey didn't wait for answer - didn't expect one. "Your mother will be home soon and you need to clean up the mess."_

_He reached in and plucked Blair from under the mass of stored items and clothing even as Blair shrunk back, afraid. But Mickey simply lifted him and then set him down on the floor outside the closet, straightened his clothing, grabbed his arm and led him out of his room, through the hall, and into the den._

_"Clean it up and don't think about telling your mother. I never tell her how bad you are, because she'd leave you, you know that, don't you? She only wants a good boy."_

_Blair nodded mutely, eyes downcast._

_"Good. Hurry up, then. She'll be home soon."_

_With that, he walked out, leaving Blair alone. He looked down at the mess and wondered how he could fix it. He probably needed some kind of soap and water...and towels? He sighed and rubbed his arm where he'd hit the wall._

_How could he hide these new bruises so mommy wouldn't know and leave?_

_He'd worry about that later. For now, he had to clean the carpet. He shuffled into the bathroom, reached up on his tippy-toes, pulled his Dr. Seuss cup toward him, filled it with warm water, grabbed up the toothpaste and, holding it with both hands, squeezed some into the cup. He wadded up a bunch of toilet paper and stuck it under his arm, then took the cup carefully in both hands and walked back to the den. He was so careful that he didn't spill a drop. He knelt down and put the cup next to the stain, dipped some toilet paper into the water and began to scrub._

_Mop, rinse, mop, rinse...and slowly the stain faded._

_As he worked, tears began to slide down his cheeks and Luli, who was sitting on the other side of the sliding glass door, bowed her head, miserable for her master._

_When he was finished, he picked up the cup and returned it to the bathroom. He flushed the wad of TP and emptied his cup. For a minute, he stared at the swirling water and wondered if he were truly bad. Did mommy believe him to be good when he was really a bad little boy? Should **he** tell her the truth so she'd know? He wrapped his arms around his tummy and slowly slipped to the floor._

_He was bad. But he could try harder and mommy would stay. Mommy would stay if he weren't too much trouble, if he just did what they said, became what they wanted. A good little boy. He'd be good. He would. The best little boy he could be._

_***_

_When Naomi got home, she noticed a difference in Blair. He was so quiet and, even though he was better and could sit with them in the living room, he chose to spend all his time in his room, in his favorite corner._

_He did exactly what was asked, as soon as it was asked. He didn't once mention that Luli should be allowed inside and Naomi didn't like it - not one bit. Where was her lively, bouncy, questioning, curious son? Was he having a relapse?_

_Mickey was still bugging her about setting a new date, but a wedding with Mickey still out of work and her working two jobs seemed impossible. They'd just have to wait. Oddly enough, since her current life wasn't exactly how she pictured her marriage, she was actually glad at the thought of what could be a lengthy postponement._

_***_

_Three weeks later -_

_Naomi was exhausted. She'd offered to stay late at the diner and close up and now, all she wanted was a hot shower, some private time with Blair, and then bed. She walked up the porch steps and inside to find Mickey on the couch, watching television. Her hopes for a peaceful evening died the moment he saw her._

_"Did you call Dr. Samuel today?"_

_"No, Mickey, I didn't," she answered as she took off her coat and hung it up. She put her purse down and walked into the living room. "Could we not talk about this now? I'm really tired."_

_Getting to his feet, Mickey turned off the television, tossed the remote and turned to face her, anger blazing from his eyes. "There's no reason to postpone any longer...Blair's fine now and we need to get married."_

_"I said I don't want to talk about it now. Besides, Blair is far from fine. Not by any means. Now, I'm going to take a shower and then head for bed."_

_He looked hard at her, his anger building. That damn kid, always the kid. Always. They'd be married now if not for him. He'd have his job too...._

_"Fine. I'm going out."_

_Damn it, she knew what that meant. He'd go to a bar, score some coke and then come home in a foul mood._

_Taking his arm, she pleaded, "Mickey, stay. You know you'll drink and... Please just stay?"_

_He brushed her hand roughly away and demanded, "Look, if I want a beer or something stronger, I'll have it. And lady, you're definitely driving me to drink."_

_Angry at his words, she stepped back and, chin lifting stubbornly, said, "Fine. Go. But don't expect me to take care of your hangover."_

_"Right, why would I? Why would you take care of me? You'll take care of Blair, but not me. I'm so out of here." With that, he grabbed his keys and slammed out the front door, completely forgetting his car was in the garage around back._

_She heard him curse as he remembered and he must have walked to the side because she heard the creaking of the gate - which was when she remembered Luli. Damn, he'd probably ignore her and let her out._

_Even as she moved to the kitchen and the back door, she heard Luli's yipping followed by Mickey bellowing, "Shut the fuck up!"_

_Suddenly very worried - the sick-to-the-stomach kind - she started to open the back door when her son's voice stopped her._

_"mommy? what's wrong?"_

_Blair stood in the doorway, rubbing sleep from his eyes, hair a curly mess._

_Naomi scooped him up in her arms and buried her face in the crook of his neck. "Nothing, sweetheart, nothing. I was just going to check on Luli."_

_***_

_Mickey opened the side door to the garage, resentment in every move. He didn't notice Luli or that she'd slipped inside with him. He hit the switch for the automatic garage door opener, got into the car and started the engine. He glanced in the rear view mirror - and froze._

_Luli was sitting smack in the middle of the driveway, wagging her tail expectantly._

_That damn dog - and damn its owner too._

_Eyes narrowing in response to a sudden cold rage, Mickey very carefully - and deliberately, put the car in reverse, his gaze never leaving the mirror or the dog. Then he smiled - an almost feral smile - took his foot off the brake, placed it on the accelerator - and pressed down hard._

_***_

_Naomi walked back to Blair's room and was just reaching for the overhead light when they heard the frightening screech of brakes - followed by a horrifying high-pitched yelp that Naomi would never forget._

_Her blood seemed to freeze, her heart stopping - because she knew. She **knew**._

_Blair whipped his head around, eyes blinking rapidly. "mommy? mommy?"_

_She put him down on the bed. "Honey, stay right here, all right? I'll go check but I'm sure it's nothing."_

_She walked away, trying not to telegraph her fear and, once out of his sight, ran the rest of the way to the door, which she flung open. She bolted out and onto the porch, frightened by what she knew she'd find - so frightened, she failed to notice that Blair had followed her._

_Unable to see clearly, she was forced to hurry down the steps to get a better view of the driveway - and immediately wished she hadn't. It was worse than she'd expected. Naomi started toward the small furry bundle under the tires, but a heart-breaking scream stopped her._

_"mom-meeeee!"_

_Tears immediately filled her eyes as she turned back to see Blair on the walkway, chest heaving, fist to mouth, eyes shocked wide as he stared at the tires. She ran back to him, trying hard to ensure that her body blocked any view of the horror behind her. When she reached him, she gathered him into her arms and kept his face turned away from Mickey's car as she hurried back toward the house. God, he was shaking so badly._

_She was barely aware of Mickey, who'd climbed out of the car to walk towards them. When he caught up to her, she shook her head before walking inside and shutting the door behind her._

_Naomi knew that Mickey would take care of Luli so she sat down on the couch, still holding her son close. His small frame was wracked with tremors but he'd stopped crying - in fact, there were no sounds coming from him at all. Just the shaking; the horrible shaking._

_"It's okay sweetheart, it's okay, I'm so sorry, so sorry."_

_She repeated the words over and over but still he didn't cry or speak. For almost an hour she held him, rocked and soothed and for almost an hour, he shook but didn't cry._

_***_

_Only somewhat cowed by the expression on Naomi's face when she'd seen the dog and then stared accusingly at him, Mickey moved the car back to the garage, took a shovel and carried it into the backyard. There, he dug a hole before going into the kitchen, taking a small storage box from the pantry, a sheet from the linen closet and carrying them all back outside. He wrapped the tiny, broken body in the sheet, set it in the box, replaced the lid and then put it in the hole._

_After covering it up, he looked back at the house, then the garage, and thought that if was going to have a chance with Naomi now, he was going to have to this right - all the way right. So he went back into the garage, to his woodworking station. He found a piece of wood that would do, took some time to shape it correctly before getting a can of paint down from the shelf. With one of his smaller brushes, he painstakingly wrote **Luli** on it and then carried it over to the mound and placed it in the ground._

_Once he'd put everything away and closed the garage, he went back inside._

_Naomi was in the living room, holding Blair. He started toward her but she shook her head again, got to her feet and walked into her bedroom. There, she placed Blair in the middle of the large bed and, after he turned onto his side and curled into a protective ball, she covered him, kissed him on the temple, slipped out of her clothes and into her pajamas and then slid in beside him so she could take him back into her arms. She wasn't surprised when he clung hard or by the fact that he was still shaking._

_In the living room, Mickey sat down on the couch - where he remained all night._

_***_

_The next morning, Naomi got her son up and, when she tried to talk to him about Luli, he simply refused._

_"Okay, okay, I get it, sweetheart. Look, why don't you go change while I get breakfast, all right? I'll make your favorite; French toast."_

_He didn't say anything, but he did walk out of her room and into his._

_Sighing, she slipped into her robe and headed for the kitchen. Mickey was there and, from the look of him, hadn't slept all night. But he was making orange juice and the griddle she used for the French toast was on the stove._

_"I buried the do--Luli--last night," he said as he watched her open the fridge. "I made a marker and everything."_

_When she didn't respond, he added in a tense voice, "It was an accident, Naomi. I never saw her, didn't know she'd followed me outside. How could I?"_

_Eggs in her hands, she said, without looking at him, "Would you start the egg dip for the French toast? I want to let Blair know about the...about the grave. He may want to - say goodbye."_

_He got up immediately and took the eggs from her hands. "Go. I'll take care of breakfast."_

_He watched her leave and yes, he'd noticed the fact that she'd never once looked at him. He cracked an egg and thought, "I can fix this. I **will** fix this."_

_***_

_Blair listened to his mother's words and, when she asked if he'd like to go look, he nodded. She started to take his hand, but he pulled away, picked up one of Luli's favorite balls and marched out to the backyard. Once there, he stood a moment, staring forlornly at the 'grave' before walking over - slowly and uncertainly - but then he knelt on the grass and placed Luli's small red rubber ball on the soft earth. If he said anything, Naomi couldn't hear it. After several minutes, he got to his feet, hurried past her and onto the back porch where Luli's other toys were stored. He lifted the small box, walked back outside and over to the trash cans. He carefully placed the box down, lifted the lid of the nearest can and then, to Naomi's shocked surprise, dropped the box inside and replaced the lid._

_And not once did the expression on his face change._

_***_

_In the next few days, no matter what Naomi tried, Blair refused to use the front door, choosing only the side door and their second, smaller gate. He also refused to get into Mickey's car or to go into the garage._

_But Blair hadn't been the only silent one in the house. Naomi saw the change in Mickey too. In the few days since Luli's death, he'd done all the cleaning, cooking and laundry. At night, he'd climb in next to Naomi and, without a word, take her gently into his arms and let her cry. Then and only then did he really speak. He murmured soft words of apology and regret over and over again until finally, on the fourth night following the accident, Naomi found herself consoling him._

_On the sixth day after the accident, Naomi felt comfortable enough to leave Blair in order to return to work. Not that she'd have a choice - the bills were piling up._

***

Jim watched Blair carefully as he finished telling Luli's story. He couldn't help but wonder how Blair could have turned out as wonderful as he had with the horror that had been that brief time with Mickey - he also worried how much more they could take in the way of memories. Every new disclosure seemed more vile than the one before and, with each newly surfaced memory, Jim was shaken to his core. But for Blair's sake, he held it all in, controlled every muscle and nerve ending even though he wanted nothing more than to kill Mickey. He'd give anything if the man were still alive - because he would have dearly loved killing him with his bare hands.

Then there was the anger directed at Naomi, the woman who'd allowed the atrocities to take place. And atrocities was the right word because Jim knew in the depth of his soul and in the darkest places of his mind that Mickey had deliberately run over that puppy. Question was: did Blair know? Naomi?

Damn it, they needed Naomi.

Blair seemed better for having both remembered that night - and telling Jim. Now he dropped a kiss down on the furry black and tan head and got back into bed. He didn't move into the circle of Jim's arms, instead choosing to lie on his back, hands behind his head. Jim settled on his side, head propped on his hand, gazing thoughtfully at his partner.

Eventually, he felt the need to break the silence. "I never had a pet. Don't even remember wanting one...but I think Steven did...maybe a guinea pig."

Blair didn't say anything, just continued to stare up at the ceiling.

"You okay?"

"I'm fine. It's funny, you know? You remembering the thing with Luli before me. What did I tell Marty, anyway?"

Jim wanted to reach out, but he was very good at reading Blair's body language - which at the moment was saying 'leave me alone'. Instead, he simply answered Blair's question. "Martin had come over for dinner - it was the first time he really interacted with anyone after Peter's funeral. But I think the stories I told everyone about you...well, he wanted to see you.

"Anyway, we had pizza and you made a royal mess." Jim grinned with the memory. "Later, you were sitting on the floor playing while Marty and I talked. He was pretty upset because everyone expected him to just pack Peter away, to get over losing him - but he couldn't."

"I can understand that," Blair said, eyes still on the ceiling.

"Yeah, me too. Anyway, he was still in mourning and you told him that no one could make anyone stop crying until they were ready. That's when Martin joined you on the floor...and you helped him." Jim reached out and touched Blair on his chest, just over his heart. "You told him about Luli, how she was there, in your heart...because Naomi told you as long as you keep what you love there, they were always with you. Then you asked Marty if he had someone there and he told you that he did - that's when you said that hugs always helped."

"They do. Sometimes."

"But not always?"

"No, Jim, not always. Sometimes nothing can help and it was stupid to tell Marty that they could because you certainly can't compare the loss of a dog to the loss of your heart."

There was anger in Blair's voice and Jim wasn't sure where it was coming from, or even if he wanted to know. He rested his hand on Blair's chest and said softly, "You weren't comparing Luli to Peter, Chief. Just the feeling of loss and the emotions that surround it...and that helped. _You_ helped."

"Bullshit. Time helped Marty - and you can hardly compare a child's loss of a dog to the loss of a life mate." Blair rolled over onto his side, away from Jim, and added, "Let's go to sleep, morning comes early and you have court."

Jim wasn't really surprised by Blair's reaction, his denial ran deep. He might know he had terrible doubts about his mother, but deep down inside, he was blaming only one person; himself. Jim just wish he could figure out how to get through to him.

He reached over and turned out the bedside light, dropped his head to the pillow and tried to sleep - which was damn difficult with the ocean that seemed to have formed between him and Blair.

***

Jim must have finally slept because when he next opened his eyes, it was to bright sun. Unfortunately, he was alone and worse still, Blair's side of the bed was cold to the touch. Not an ounce of residual heat which meant Blair had been gone quite awhile. Jim tuned into the sounds of the loft and heard Blair, downstairs with Katie and trying to coax her to take her medicines.

_"This is good for you, don't be so stubborn. Yes, it's medicine, but it's going to make you better."_

He must not have succeeded in getting her to take her medicine because he started to plead with her.

_"Please, baby? Come on, you need to get better, okay?"_

An idea popped into Jim's head and he quickly got up, slipped on his robe and padded downstairs. Blair was, as he suspected, already dressed and seated at the kitchen table, Katie in his arms, still trying desperately to feed her two large pills.

Coming up behind him, he rested a hand on his shoulder. "Since it's a capsule, why not break it open and mix the powder with some of that mush you made last night?"

Blair looked up at him and smiled gratefully. "Good idea, man. Would you put it together for me?"

Jim nodded, took the pills and headed into the kitchen. He grabbed up the bag of food, dropped some into the puppy's bowl, added the warm water, took the pills, opened them and spread them onto the mush before stirring. He took it back to Blair and set it down before heading back into the kitchen for his coffee. Steaming mug in hand, he sat down and watched Blair feed Katie and was pleased to see that it took less than five minutes for Katie to scarf everything down - medicine and all.

Happy at the success of Jim's idea, Blair set the pup down and they watched with fond amusement as she wobbled uncertainly over to Jim, sniffed his bare foot, then wobbled over to the living room for a sniffing journey. She was moving slow, obviously hurting a bit, but her curiosity was stronger.

When she was satisfied with all the smells, she weaved her way back to Blair and promptly sat down on his foot, looked up at him and yipped her desire to be picked up. Blair chuckled and carefully scooped her into his arms - where she settled happily.

"Chief, I think she's in love."

"Nah, I'm just the one feeding her." He checked his watch and added, "By the way, you're going to be late if you don't get a move on."

"You're coming in today, right?"

Blair shot him a surprised look and, with an indulgent grin, said, "Hello? I work there now, remember? And no worries about Katie and the floors - Mrs. Donaldson from downstairs agreed to watch over her."

"Looks like you've got everything covered. Quick thinking, Chief."

"What can I say? I'm a jewel."

"A rare gem and one that could probably use a good buffing later tonight."

"I'd prefer some solid boffing," Blair snorted.

"Buff, boff, whatever...it all translates to the need for some major polishing by yours truly."

"Man, you're just too romantic - and still undressed - and still going to be late if you don't move it, sweet-cheeks."

Grimacing at Blair's version of an endearment, Jim finished the last of his coffee, put the cup in the sink and then returned to Blair long enough to wrap an arm around his chest and bury his face in Blair's hair. "You know, there's an old saying about cleanliness being next to Godliness - so another shower wouldn't hurt you. Care to join me?"

Blair slipped out of Jim's embrace and stood. Trying to look stern, he said, "Sanchez will have a fit if you're late - which you will be if I join you in the shower, so go." He made a shooing motion with one hand, which caught Katie's attention, causing her to bat at it, trying to catch the elusive new toy.

Giving out with an exaggerated sigh, Jim said, "You win, but later tonight...we do some heavy duty polishing."

Blair rolled his eyes. "With anyone else, that would be code for sex - but knowing you, you'll bring out the silverware and polish when you get home."

"Just for that, I'm going to stop at the hardware store on the way home and get some silver polish. That'll teach you."

Laughing, Blair sat back down and spent a few minutes playing gently with Katie.

***

Blair drove to the station on autopilot, his mind too full of sharp, newly surfaced memories and feelings. It seemed that every time he turned around, there was a new one and, with it, more fear and panic. And he hated the whole cycle. It was interfering with his new life with Jim.

No, scratch that - this fucking trip down memory lane was interfering with Jim's life. Damn his infernal nightmares. How hard could it be to stop them - to just let go? He'd obviously done it for years - so why couldn't he go back into denial mode - go back to forgetting?

Hell, maybe Jim could give him a few pointers.

He pulled into the PD garage, swung into his parking space and, after turning off the engine, sat with his arms on the steering wheel as he thought about his predicament.

Okay, so he was dealing with old memories, memories he didn't want. So, he needed to stop them - before it was too late - before Jim....

Just - before.

When no answers on _how_ to forget them arrived, he got out of the Volvo, stuck his keys in his pocket and walked toward the elevator. He nodded to fellow officers, exchanged a few hellos, and pretended everything was fine - he was pretty good at that - maybe always had been.

As he got into the elevator, grateful to be alone, it struck him that maybe the key was meditation. Yeah, meditation, solid (and exhausting) exercise, and lots of hard work. Between those three things, he should have no trouble sleeping nightmare-free. And if that didn't work - he still had some pills the doctor had given him a month ago following that little inner-city car chase that had ended with him and Jim in the riverbed.

And yeah, in spite of his hatred for drugs - he'd use them - if he had to.

***

Jim stood on the courtroom steps, Joel Taggart at his side. They sighed in relief, both glad to be out in the fresh air, finally finished with the trial. Better still, not only was the trial over, but their perp had been declared guilty as charged. And gosh, Jim thought, it had only taken a year and a half of continuances to get here.

"Feels good, doesn't it?" Joel asked.

"Yeah, but it'd feel a hell of a lot better if the trial had taken place last year, but hey, wheels of justice and all that crap."

Joel gave out with a booming laugh as they moved down the steps. "Lawyers, can't live with them, can't live without them." He rubbed his stomach and added, "My body is telling me it's lunchtime - how about some chili at Mom's Cafe?"

Jim shook his head, thinking about Blair and maybe taking him to his favorite seafood restaurant. "Thanks, Joel, but I want to check on Sandburg, see if he's eaten yet."

"Understood. Hey, why don't we see if he can meet us over at Sam's Seafood? He can have something healthy, while we pig out on the Clam Chowder Special."

"Joel, I like the way you think." Jim pulled out his cell phone and punched in two digits. After two rings, Blair picked up. "Hey."

_"How was court?"_

"We won. Of course."

_"Natch. No other outcome possible."_

"Look, Joel and I were just heading over to Sam's Seafood, thought you might want join us?"

_"Why do I not think Sam's was a first choice, that maybe Mom's was number one?"_

"Because you're brilliant?"

_"Goes without saying - sexy as hell too."_

"Oh, yeah," Jim breathed out.

_"Just how close **is** Joel to you?"_

"Too close."

_"Poor baby...no phone-polishing."_

"Like I'd do that on the court steps?"

_"I would. And you know, there's always the bathroom at Sam's - nice large stalls...."_

Jim looked up at the sky and muttered, "Elephants - pink elephants."

The laughter coming through the earpiece of the cell phone was loud enough for Joel to cock an eyebrow.

_"I'll see you at Sam's in twenty - and the men's room in thirty."_

"Pink elephants in tu-tu's."

_"Patio table?"_

"Natch."

_"Good, closer to the bathrooms."_

"Anyone ever tell you that you have a--"

_"Joel's standing right next to you, man."_

"I hate you," Jim said with a smile as he disconnected to the sound of Blair's laughter.

He slipped the phone into his pocket and gave Joel a smile. "It's a done deal. Sam's it is." Jim started for the truck and had gone several paces before realizing he was alone. "Joel?"

Shaking his head, Joel hurried up to him. "Sorry. I was thinking."

"About?"

"Your phone call...and how it sounded."

Jim cocked his head, puzzled, "So how _did_ it sounded?"

"Like an old, happily married couple...you know, with secret words and everything?" He grinned. "It sounded - good."

Jim grinned, thumped Joel on the back and they walked to the truck.

***

The meal at Sam's was excellent and the three men relaxed, laughed and ate heartily. Well, two of them ate hearty. Jim noticed Blair fiddling with his food, moving it around the plate, even as he joked with Joel or taunted Jim.

As they discussed Joel's new girlfriend, coincidentally introduced by Sandburg, Jim took a quick physical inventory of his partner and didn't like what he found.

To Sentinel sight, Blair's skin was dry, his color down, his skin with a slight grayish tint to it - and the dark circles under his eyes would soon be noticeable to everyone. Then there was the fidgeting, almost invisible, unless you were a Sentinel, or the man's partner. His fidgeting manifested itself in the slight tremor of his fingers as they rested on the table, one finger just barely tapping, not actually making contact - almost as if Blair were aware and fighting the urge.

The final sign - the one that really had Jim worried, was the complete lack of eye contact. Through the entire meal, Blair had connected with Jim's mouth, nose, the middle of his forehead - anywhere but his eyes.

Deciding now might be another good time to try and reach Naomi - because he had no doubt all that he'd noticed about Blair could be tracked back his mother - Jim felt in his back pocket for the thin address book and, at the first opportunity, excused himself. He gave Blair a nudge. "Scoot over, Chief. I forgot I was supposed to check in with Sanchez. Be right back."  
Blair gave him a surprised look, but nodded and scooted out to allow Jim to exit the booth.

"Chief, order me a spumoni?"

"Sure. Tell Beverly hi for me."

"Will do."

He walked back to the small hallway that housed the phones, pulled out the book and flipped to the Naomi message number Blair had given him years ago, an emergency pager number.

He dialed and, when the call was electronically picked up, said, "Naomi, this is Jim Ellison. Now you listen and you listen good. I don't give a flying fuck about your feelings regarding Blair becoming a cop, you understand? You get back here and you get back here now. Blair needs you and the only hint I'm going to give you is one fucking word; Mickey fucking Goddard. Okay, that was three words." Jim slammed down the receiver. Hard.

He took three deep breaths, the way Sandburg had taught him... waited until he was centered, then plastered a smile on his face and rejoined Joel and Blair.

***** 

The walk into town was long and arduous, but for Naomi, a necessity. She'd been with the monks at the Tulani Mission for several months, maintaining her own silence, meditating, reliving the days with Blair and Jim, the havoc she'd created and trying hard to come to terms with her mistakes. Not to mention the fact that by now, her beloved son was a detective.

So far, she'd made little progress and was no closer to acceptance of Blair as a detective, but she needed to get out, see the sun, see people, talk.

The walk took her the majority of the morning and would also take all afternoon to return, but she felt better than she had in weeks. It was both invigorating and inspiring. The land around the mission and the animal-made trail she'd chosen to follow into the village was beautiful, natural and untouched by man's progress.

America, and Cascade were hundreds of miles away - and so were her mistakes.

She breathed in deep, the rush of clean, crisp morning air filling her lungs and she smiled, delighting in the world around her.

Her plans for the day were simple. See the village, check her mail and her service, and then walk back to the mission. Nothing earth shattering, nothing urgent. She recognized that there might be a message from Blair - either a letter or even a phone message - because by now, he'd be a detective. He'd want to talk; to share. And maybe she'd even open the letter - or letters. Maybe - just maybe - she was at a point where she could read his words, his stories - or even hear the excitement in his voice.

The road widened and the delicious odors of cooking meals from the village were now apparent. It was strange, knowing she was in the heart of Mexico, that Mexico City was only three hours north, that millions of people, thousands of tourists were just over the 'next volcano' as some would say. Yet here - there was little to no signs of the modern world.

As Naomi entered the town of Tapaxan, her smile grew. It was a small village, yet bustling with rural life. As she gazed about her, Blair came immediately to mind. He would have loved this place. Then her smile faded...would have... He was a detective now, not an anthropologist.

She made her way to the small building that housed the mail center and even an old wall phone. The interior was cool, clean and empty. A counter stood to her right, the phone to her left. She decided to collect mail first - then brave the phone. A small, ancient looking man smiled a huge toothless grin and inquired how he might assist her. She gave him her name and, with a nod, disappeared behind a curtain, only to reappear a few minutes later, arms full of envelopes. He handed them over and Naomi realized that any reading would have to wait until she returned to the mission - there was just too much mail - which meant she probably had a good many phone messages too.

She stepped over to the phone, plunked in her coins and dialed her service, then said her three-digit code. A moment later, her messages started replaying.

For several minutes she stood, listening, occasionally nodding, smiling, always erasing at the end of the message. Then one message caused her smile to fade and her body to still. She listened, her heart beating hard and, even as the words continued, she began to rifle through the many envelopes until the one referenced in the current message caught her eye. She continued to listen as she ripped the envelope open and pulled out a folded piece of paper. As she unfolded it, two newspaper clippings slipped out. Naomi picked up them up, unfolded the first and read the headline.

**SHOOT OUT LEAVES 8 DEAD, 7 INJURED**

Naomi read the article, her eyes scanning for one name and, when she found it, under those listed as critically injured, the receiver dropped from her hand.

She stood, frozen in place, eyes stuck on a few all-important type-written words;

**"...among those injured was Detective Blair Sandburg, who was inside the Post Office at the time of the attack. He is credited with saving the lives of five civilians, including two children. Detective Sandburg is currently in a coma and listed in critical condition."**

"Nonono...."

She heard the whispered word - repeated over and over again - and realized it came from her. She swayed on her feet as her hand convulsed around the piece of newspaper, eyes closing, her heart faltering....

"God, no, not Blair...please, god, no."

She caught herself against the wall, reopened her eyes - and caught sight of the other article. With a dread so intense she thought she might die, she unfolded it.

**AFTERMATH OF FATAL SHOOTOUT**

Once again her eyes sought words, a name....

**"...were buried today, with full honors...."**

Her eyes scanned the names...Elizabeth Jenkins - Peter Sbarro - Brian Rafe....

She knew him - she knew Rafe....

Naomi bent her head and squeezed her eyes shut to keep back the tears. She remembered Brian so well. But even as she felt the sorrow - she felt the joy at the fact that Blair's name had not been included. She went back to reading, to see if she could glean any further information on her son.

And there his name. She clutched her heart. He was alive and had come out of the coma but nothing else was said about his condition or any brain damage.

She took a deep breath, closed her eyes again - and gave a quick thanks to God.

But she needed to know more and nothing else was in the envelope. She picked up the receiver she'd dropped, quickly erased the message, then listened, hoping now to hear his beloved voice.

She listened, erased, listened, erased...and then, the final message.

_"Naomi, this is Jim Ellison. Now you listen and you listen good. I don't give a flying fuck about your feelings regarding Blair becoming a cop, you understand? You get back here and you get back here now. Blair needs you and the only hint I'm going to give you is one fucking word; Mickey fucking Goddard. Okay, that was three words."_

The loud click in her ear clearly worked to punctuate Jim's anger.

She didn't move - couldn't move. The phone dropped away....

Mickey Goddard.

Dear God. Mickey. Blair.

Her vision dimmed, the air became hot and stifling...and suddenly she was twenty-two again and living in San Francisco. Her wedding to Mickey had been postponed because Blair had contracted the flu...and then poor Luli....

Memories swirled about her... including her final memory of Mickey Goddard....

***

The Past -

_Naomi pulled the black VW bug into the driveway, not bothering to stick it in the garage, too tired to drive the additional three feet. She turned off the engine, gazed at the small house with only one light on in the kitchen and the porch light lit to welcome her home._

_No real welcome - and nothing inside would be overly welcoming either - certainly not Mickey. Oh, God. She rested her forehead on the steering wheel for a moment - dreading the fact that she'd have to go inside and face Mickey._

_Which was odd considering how, since Luli's death, he'd been loving, caring, and solicitous. He'd kept the house clean, had warmed meals waiting for her when she got home late, ran errands during the day and, not once, had he mentioned the wedding._

_Blair, on the other hand, was too quiet, very withdrawn, and speaking only when spoken to. He ignored his beloved books and toys, preferring to lie on his bed and gaze out the window and onto the backyard - and the small mound that marked Luli's grave._

_Her heart broke every time she looked at her son. Loss was a part of growing up, she knew that, but somehow - this was worse. This seemed - abnormal - but she didn't know why._

_Tired and feeling far too old, she slipped out of the car and walked up to the front door. She had two hours until she had to leave for her second job at the diner, and she desperately hoped it could be spent in the bathtub and later with Blair._

_As she unlocked the door, she immediately realized that if she hadn't been thinking of her exhaustion and everything wrong with her life, she'd have heard the yelling sooner, would have hurried - but she was inside now...._

_**"You goddamned bastard! Don't you dare run from me or so help me, I'll beat you black and blue!"** _

_She dropped her purse and keys on the floor and ran toward the yelling, her heart seizing when she heard her son's scared, high-pitched voice...._

_**"mommy, mommy, sorry, sorry, sorry...."** _

_She ran to the back of the house, her son's screams ripping through her like a dozen knives. Then the sound of something striking flesh, more screams, more Mickey...._

_**"Don't you hide from me, kid! You get out from under that bed now - or so help me...."** _

_She skidded to a stop in the doorway of Blair's bedroom, took in the sight of Mickey on the floor, broom in hand, swatting it back and forth under the bed to the small whimpers of her son._

_"i'll be good, please, i'll be good, didn't mean to spill, don't tell mommy, please...."_

_She watched almost in slow motion as Mickey reached for her son and just the thought of that hand touching Blair...._

_**"Leave my son alone - now!"** _

_Every ounce of her strength, her sudden and complete hatred of the man trying to hurt her son came out in those words - but it wasn't enough. She attacked him - flew at him with swinging fists that she used to pound at his back - and when he fell, to strike his chest. The broom was beside him and, because her hands hurt and they weren't really doing enough to vent her anger, she picked it up and used it, raining blows with the sweeper end even as he brought his hands up in defense._

_Everything was red and she continued to swing but he managed to crawl away and get to his feet. He tried to use his size to intimidate her, but in spite of the weird, anger-filled fugue, she could hear her son's sobs so she held on to it, screamed at him over and over and over again until, actually frightened, he began to back up...then he was in the hall and she continued to swing as she backed him into the foyer - and that's when he began to yell again._

_**"Goddamn it, Naomi, put that fucking broom down! You're going to kill me!"** _

_Naomi thought that was actually a good idea so she shook her head and continued to swing. She managed to hit more than not but he had no where else to go, he was backed against the wall and she made the mistake of getting too close. Moving fast and, just as she brought the broom down, Mickey grabbed her arms and held her. He started to shake her - to yell at her - and spittle struck her face but the words were worse...._

_***_

_Blair crawled out from under the bed, eyes wide as he watched his mommy attack Mickey. She was attacking him, mad at **him**._

_Hand clamped to his mouth, he scooted toward the door and finally got to his feet. They were in the hall now and his mommy was still yelling, still trying to hit Mickey so Blair tiptoed to the door and peeked out. They were moving into the front of the house...so he cautiously followed._

_The yelling was so loud now because Mickey was screaming back at his mommy and shaking her...and scared, Blair dropped down next to the table opposite the front door...._

_***_

_**"You think I don't know the truth? Once you told me how he was conceived, that you didn't even know who the father was, I know you didn't want him. For God's sake, Naomi, you were higher than a kite - it was a fucking orgy! Peace, love and flowers? That's a laugh! You were nothing but a whore who didn't have the guts to get rid of the mistake that was your pregnancy!"** _

_Mickey pushed her away with disdain and, only because she so was stunned at his words, she allowed it, let herself stumble backward._

_He lowered his voice now that he had her attention and, in an oddly reasonable voice, said, "He's kept us apart, Naomi. Kept us apart."_

_She shook her head at that, at something she couldn't believe was coming from the man she thought she loved - had loved. "No, no, no...."_

_Anger took hold again and, eyes blazing, she raised the broom up. In a cold, hard voice that belied her youth and size, she said, "Get out of my home now or so help me, I'll kill you."_

_To punctuate her threat, she slung the broom over her shoulder like a baseball bat and stood, legs spread wide, eyes narrowed, mouth firm._

_Something about her demeanor, something in her eyes, got through to him. Stunned, he realized that Naomi was serious. She would hurt him because of that brat._

_Mickey was nothing if not a practical man and he could wait. Naomi loved him, needed him. She would come crawling back and, because he knew that - he turned and walked out the front door. There was always tomorrow._

_***_

_When the door shut, Blair crawled back to his room, to the tiny space on the other side of the bed where he huddled, shaking, fingers grasping for a warm presence that wasn't there. For Luli._

_***_

_Naomi stared at the open door, still breathing hard as she listened for the sound of Mickey's truck to start up. When it did, she peeked around the curtain on the front door window and watched as he drove off down the street._

_Relief flooded her and the broom dropped from her hands. When it hit the floor, she stared at it - and the feeling of relief faded. He'd come back. Tomorrow, probably. But there was no way she'd let him near Blair again._

_Blair. Oh, God._

_She ran back to his room. "Blair? Honey? Are you okay?"_

_His voice, so small, answered from the other side of the bed. "mommy?"_

_She crawled over the bed so she could see over the edge, see her son._

_He was curled into a tight ball, blue eyes almost eclipsed by pupils widened in fear. Heart in her throat, she entreated, "Please Blair, come to me? Please? I really need to hold you. Please?"_

_"but i was bad. so bad. so sorry, sorry, sorry...."_

_As the sorrys' tumbled out, he started shaking and she knew she had to say something, reassure him somehow._

_"You're not bad, sweetie, never. Mickey was the bad one, not you. Please, sweetie? Come up and let me hold you, please?"_

_Slowly but surely, Blair raised his arms and, with a sigh of relief, she reached over and gently pulled him into her arms. She cradled him against her and lovingly brushed sweat soaked curls back from his flushed face as she crooned soothing nonsensical words. As he started to relax and the shaking subsided, she sat up and rested against his headboard and began to rock him._

_"My baby, my baby...it's okay, he's gone, my sweetie. Never, ever again, will he touch you...I promise, Blair. I promise...never again."_

_Over and over she crooned the words and rocked, and as she rocked, her eyes took in the small arms around her neck, the bruises already forming. As his lids began to droop, she carefully lifted his striped shirt...and saw the welts, raised and ugly._

_That's when she started to cry._

_She would take Blair and run. Run far. She would pack that very night, they would stop at the diner and the bowling alley for her final checks and then, tomorrow, on the road, she would stop at the first Bank of America she came to, cash them and close her accounts. Mickey would never find them._

_Suddenly Blair roused her from the escape plans._

_"i spilled chocolate milk. i was bad."_

_Heart melting, she said softly, "No, honey, that was just an accident. I spill all the time at the bowling alley and the diner. All the time. It's normal. Just accidents."_

_She rocked, whispered, reassured and prayed the damage of this night would fade like a bad memory for him._

_An hour later, Blair was asleep so she laid him back against the pillow and took a few minutes to gently check his body, biting back the moans as all the bruises were revealed. Seeing them, she couldn't help but think back over all the other bruises of the past...and Mickey's many excuses._

_Balls. Rough-housing. Tripping. Running. Falls._

_But...no, he couldn't have...Mickey wouldn't have...Blair would have told her, wouldn't he? Of course he would. The other bruises were just that; accidents._

_Even as she convinced herself of that, as she silently went about the job of packing, of calling the landlord and her two bosses, packing Blair's toys and clothes, she cried._

_***_

_Naomi washed her face - she didn't want her now ex-co-workers to see her with puffy, red-rimmed eyes. It had been almost four hours since Mickey had left but she managed to pack everything that mattered **and** to get it loaded in the car. Now it was time to move Blair. He was still soundly sleeping - and hopefully he'd remain that way. She didn't think she could face him now, let alone the obvious questions. She carefully lifted him and, wrapped in his blanket, grabbed his pillow and carried him out to the car. She laid him in the backseat, climbed in the front, started the engine, rolled down the driveway and, without a backward glance, drove away._

_As planned, she stopped at the bowling alley and diner, grateful that her bosses were good men. Her checks were ready and, though they were sorry to see her go, she could tell they understood that more was going on than she'd shared - so they let her leave without the dozens of questions they clearly wanted to ask._

_Checks in her purse, she pointed the car east and drove. She had no intention of stopping until the next day - when the banks opened and she could find a Bank of America._

***

Naomi returned the receiver to its cradle, gathered up her mail and then walked across the street to the building that passed as a bus terminal. She walked inside, up to the counter, purchased one ticket for Mexico City; for the bus leaving tomorrow.

Minutes later, ticket tucked safely in her purse, she headed back to the Mission to pack.

She could have called Cascade, could have called Jim, but she was too afraid.

***

_"You think I don't know the truth? Once you told me how he was conceived, that you didn't even know who the father was, I know you didn't want him. For God's sake, Naomi, you were higher than a kite - it was a fucking orgy! Peace, love and flowers? That's a laugh! You were nothing but a whore who didn't have the guts to get rid of the mistake that was your pregnancy!"_

Blair struggled awake, the memory of those words ringing in his ears, slicing through him. Dazed, he looked around and realized he was on the couch. Then he thought of Jim and, almost frantic, sat up, praying that Jim wasn't any where around.

The loft was eerily silent. No Jim.

Heaving a sigh of relief, he relaxed, but only marginally. Jim could walk in any minute...no, wait...he'd gone to Leroy's Gym to work out. Blair checked his watch. It had only been an hour since Jim had left. Blair was safe for now. He swiped a hand across his face, not surprised to find his forehead covered with sweat. He didn't miss the fact that his hand was shaking either.

He could still hear the echoes of his mother and Mickey yelling on that last day - the day he'd spilled the chocolate milk. The day Mickey had come after him with a broom and his mother walked in on it.

The day Mickey had yelled the truth about his birth - and the day his mother had failed to deny the words.

Even when she'd been honest and told him she didn't know who his father had been, she'd still managed to make it sound as though she did and that somehow, he was better off not knowing. But the unspoken words had been a lie.

What he wondered now was...why _had_ she kept him?

He got up and walked into the bathroom, stood over the sink, turned on the tap and splashed cold water over his face. As it dripped down, he stared at his reflection.

Bastard.

Okay, he'd always know that, had let it roll off him like water from a duck's back. He'd learned early to joke about it, even to Jim.

No father? No big deal. Don't even know who he was? So what. Lucky, that's what he was, right? Look at Jim and William Ellison. Besides, what would some man have thought of his long haired, earring-wearing son, anyway?

He was the product of... what? A sixties love fest? Free love and free drugs. His mother, only sixteen and a runaway.

Wait...was that even the truth? _Had_ she been a runaway? Did he have family he didn't know about? Okay, sure, he always referred to uncles, but he was the only who knew they weren't really related - any more than his 'cousin' Robert. Although, he was the closet thing to a real family - had almost become his cousin - but as usual, Naomi left another 'almost' husband in the dust, which meant Robert remained a friend and not a real cousin.

He had tons of almost-relatives spread out all over the globe.

He gave a little half smile. Hell, almost-relatives were often better than the real thing.

But he was drifting. He wrenched himself back to the words that had hurt the worse and that he now remembered all too clearly.

Naomi hadn't wanted him.

So what had stopped her from getting an abortion? Naomi Sandburg was definitely not, nor had she ever been, anti-abortion. Had a phantom family refused to allow it and that's why she'd run away? And then, when she finally settled, was the pregnancy - was _he_ \- too far along to abort?

Did it fucking matter now? He had, after all, been born.

And he was pretty certain his mother loved him.

Yeah, of course she did.

Mothers always loved their sons.

Okay, Jim had issues regarding his mother - but that was a mystery for another day. And besides, just because she apparently left her two children with their father didn't mean she hadn't loved them. So there.

All right, he was avoiding. Avoidance.

His mother...his mother loved him. She did....

His world tilted, changed...and he was sinking in quicksand.

The ground kept shifting, and he couldn't get a foothold, couldn't save himself.

He could see Jim, wondered where he'd come from, why he wasn't helping him, throwing him a rope...then Jim reached out, but Blair could see his heart wasn't in it.

Okay, this was strange. Blair was wide awake, but he could see the quicksand, could feel it trying to drag him down while Jim just shook his head. Then, through a strange mist, Simon appeared. He moved to stand beside Jim, cigar in his mouth and yes, he was shaking his head too - and talking. Blair strained to hear....

_"Jim, listen to me...Sandburg's too much trouble, it's time to cut him loose."_

Blair watched as Jim stepped away from the edge of the quicksand.

_"Sorrysorrysorry... Sorry, Chief...."_

Now his mother was standing where Jim had been and she was saying something too....

_"You still love me, don't you?"_

But she wasn't holding out her hands, wasn't trying to help him either. Okay, so he'd have to help himself. He glanced around, looking for a branch, for anything that he could use to pull himself to safety - and was shocked to see Mickey a few feet away, face down in the quicksand and slowly sinking. He quickly looked back at his mother and now she was yelling at him.

_"It's all because of you!"_

Blair had to make it all go away - so he slugged the mirror. It shattered, pieces falling into the sink. He backed away until he came into contact with the towel rack.

Running would be good right now, a long, hard run....

Ignoring his hand, which was bleeding, he stripped down to his shorts and then ran upstairs. Once there, he put on his running shorts and tank top, changed into his running shoes and tied back his hair, all the while ignoring the blood. There wasn't much anyway.

He took the steps fast, ran to the front door and out.

Once outside, he didn't notice of the rain or feel the cold. He hit the sidewalk and turning in the direction of the bay, he started running.

He ran, feet pounding the pavement, arms pumping, rain hitting his face, blurring his vision... but still he ran.

He crossed streets, ran across lawns, parks, parking lots. He hit Bay Shore Drive and turned east, his pace barely slowing, pumping, churning, heart pounding, sweat mingling with the rain. He didn't notice when the rain turned into a downpour, the water coming in hard, slicing sheets. In fact, if anything, he ran harder.

As his run took him along the shore, he cut down to the beach and, when he hit the wet sand, stopped only long enough to kick off his expensive running shoes, a gift from Jim, before continuing his run barefoot. He was running so hard, so brutally, that he kicked up impacted wet sand as he went.

The storm was giving the beach some high waves and the tide was out, leaving tons of debris in its wake. As Blair pounded down the shore, he ignored the branches, twigs and seaweed right up to the moment he went flying when his foot caught on a large piece of driftwood. One minute he was up, the next, he was flat on his face.

He stayed down, hands digging into the sand, and gave a vague thought to how nice it would be if the earth chose this moment to open up and swallow him whole.

It didn't.

He rolled onto his back and, with eyes closed, let the rain pound down on him.

It felt good.

***

Jim trudged up the stairs, gym bag slung over his shoulder. He'd completed a heavy-duty workout, one of the hardest he could remember, but the pain he'd tried to dull was still there, along with the hate and anger. The hate burned especially bright because it was aimed at a dead man and thus was frustrated at the lack of an outlet. The anger - well, it too had no outlet other than the punching bag he'd used so effectively earlier. He'd managed not to see the leather exercise equipment as Naomi, replacing her visage with Goddard's. When he'd left the gym, the bag had been on the floor and Leroy was muttering something about canceling his membership.

Working out, exhausting himself, seemed the only way to successfully hide the feelings he was experiencing. He couldn't allow Blair to see the strength and depth of abhorrence he had for Naomi. It was the last thing Blair needed right now.

Jim was a cop - a good one - and his experience with child abuse victims and the innocent parent - if there was one - told him that somewhere in the back of Naomi's mind, in the deepest recesses, she'd known what had been happening. She'd allowed it to continue, unabated. A fist squeezed his heart as he recognized how much he himself hadn't known about Blair, all the questions he'd never asked.

As Jim unlocked the front door, he let his mind reel back in time, to the bouncy young man he'd met three years ago.

Blair Sandburg, graduate student, Master's Degree, Doctorate in all but Dissertation. The Ever Ready Bunny. Blair Sandburg, eager to accept anything, to teach, to learn, to observe, to be with his new found toy - a Sentinel. Back then, Jim had been under no illusions about their relationship - he _had_ been a toy to Sandburg. A bright, shiny toy, complete with gizmos, levers and all the bells and whistles. But that hadn't stopped Sandburg from taking the toy, and all of its downsides, to heart. To making Jim's life his own. He'd taken every heartbreaking Ellison event and molded them in such a way that Jim could live with them, could move on, get past them.

Jim had always prided himself on the fact that he could pinpoint almost to the second when he'd ceased being a toy to the scientist and had become a human being to the man.

Peru.

In Peru, his Sentinel abilities had finally taken a backseat and Jim had become the center of Blair's universe.

Or at least that was what he'd always believed. He'd been a fool back then.

Jim, the man, had never been a toy to Blair, and Jim, the Sentinel, had been a gift - a hero.

But it had taken years before Jim accepted that; believed that he came first with Sandburg.

And because he'd chosen to believe the worst about Blair, because it eased his conscience about the unfairness of their agreement, it had cost Blair his life, and finally, his reputation.

And in all of that time, those days that stretched to weeks, the weeks into months and the months into years, in all of that time, had there been even a clue to those early years of Blair's? Had there been a crack that Jim should have seen?

Blair Sandburg; master of the tap-dance.

Yeah, Jim understood now. Understood the dancing Blair had spent three years doing. He'd tapped danced his way around his past much the same way Jim had. Okay, Blair had a lot more finesse - but Jim chalked that up to having more to repress.

Standing in the living room, hot, tired and sweaty, Jim asked himself how in the hell had Blair pulled out of what had happened with Mickey? How the hell had he become the incredible man that he was?

Maybe he was selling Naomi short? Maybe she'd lavished far more love on him than Jim thought, and that love had made the difference in spite of all the traveling and the many times she'd left Blair behind.

Or maybe Blair simply had one of those indomitable spirits, the kind that always bounced back, stronger than before.

Jim looked around their home, at the many Blair touches, the color he'd added, the sense of living; of the two lives that now existed within the four walls.

Somehow, and against the odds, both of them had survived their childhood nightmares - had persevered. They had that in common. But Jim had needed Blair's help to truly succeed, of that, there was no doubt. What still amazed Jim was how Blair had learned to give. The adversity in Jim's life had caused him to wall himself up, giving his friendship and loyalty to but a few. But the adversity in Blair's life had caused the opposite. Blair opened himself to everyone - gave them all what they needed.

Of course, that was a damn fine way of keeping people at arms length. Keep them from asking too much, digging too deep.

Maybe they weren't so different after all.

He gazed around their home again - and smiled. Sounded good - _their_ home.

Except that half of the ownership team seemed to be missing.

Blair was gone, but the Volvo wasn't - and it was raining goats and donkeys, as Blair would say. After all, Cascade rain was rarely light enough for the expression, 'cats and dogs' - so naturally Blair had coined his own phrase.

Goats and Donkeys.

So Blair was out in the rain.

Jim dropped the gym bag and started to move through the loft doing a quick recon. The couch was still warm, the afghan tossed aside and telling Jim that Blair had napped. He could smell the faint trace of fear mixed with the sweat, which meant another possible nightmare. The slight scent of copper confused him - it seemed to surround him. But when he did some filtering, it seemed the strongest as he approached the bathroom.

Inside, he found more than he'd would have liked.

The broken mirror and smear of blood chilled him. Blair's clothes were on the floor, which surprised him. There was no hint of a shower taken...so what the hell?

There were a few drops of blood and he knew now they'd lead him upstairs. He ran up and, with a quick scan, noted that Blair's running shoes were gone.

Jesus, he was out running - in the rain. Blair Sandburg voluntarily running in the rain.

Jim hurried back down, grabbed the keys and headed out the door.

***

He should get up if for no other reason than the sand felt...icky. And of course, rain was notoriously wet

Then there was his foot - which hurt like a son of a bitch.

Blair lifted himself up enough to check - and yep, blood. Well yeah. Duh.

Run barefoot and trip on a fucking piece of driftwood and you're probably going to bleed. Now he had both a bloody hand and a foot to match. Damn, he was clever.

He was also in for a ton of "I told you so's" from Jim.

He sat up, pulled his right leg toward him, examined the cut and decided the rain was a good thing. It was doing one hell of a job washing the wound.

With all the enthusiasm of a slug, he got up and immediately realized that he really didn't know where he was. He looked dazedly about him, skimming hair back from his face, and spotted the Armistead Arms. Okay, location now known...and yes, he was a long way from home. He shrugged and started walking. Slowly. Painfully.

***

If there was one thing Jim knew about his partner, soul mate, partner - it was that when he ran for enjoyment - he headed for Ferguson Park. When he ran out of anger, he headed for the business district and when he ran to forget - or because he was hurt - he wanted the ocean.

Jim turned the truck in the direction of the marina.

He drove for several minutes, eyes scanning ahead, ears listening for any clue. When he hit Bay Shore, he slowed down and finally pulled to the curb. He got out, walked over to the rail and gazed down on the beach, looking carefully in both directions. It only took a moment to spot Blair - the one lone figure limping up the beach, head down, long hair dripping.

Jim took to the beach on the run.

***

God, he felt stupid. Stupid and shitty.

One good nights sleep - that was all he asked. One fucking night without nightmares or more memories intruding. One night when Jim wouldn't have to wake up and try to calm him down.

Well, he was certainly tired enough tonight. Oh, yeah. Maybe he'd finally take one of those sleeping pills too. Yep, tonight could be the night - _would_ be the night.

"Hey, sailor, want a lift?"

Blair lifted his head and looked up into the pale blues of his partner. He lifted his left hand in a sorry attempt at a wave and said, "Oh. Hi."

Jim smiled. "That's somewhere in California, I think. Isn't there a commune there?"

As Jim intended, Blair couldn't help the laugh.

"Yeah, you big jerk. Naomi stayed there once. The Ojai Communal Residence. Nice. Hot. Dry."

"Hot and dry, you say? Heaven. Or maybe you hadn't noticed that it's raining?"

"No? Really?"

"Really. Care to get out of it?"

"Well, I've been having a really good time...wet and all...but I think you just talked me into it."

They started to walk and Jim said conversationally, "You're limping."

"Yeah, and I'm sure that sentinel sight of yours noticed the bleeding too. Most people would have to actually look down, but not you."

"Toad."

"Ribbit-ribbit."

Jim stopped, slid his arm around the younger man's waist, pulled him in and, as he gazed at Blair's tired, wet face, said, "Lean on me."

Blair looked up in surprise, then blushed before looking hurriedly back down. "I'm getting kinda heavy, man."

"Never, Chief. Never." He pointed up toward the street. "Truck's parked up on Bay Shore. Keep the foot raised as much as possible, don't want it getting infected."

"Yes, Sir."

"Damn right."

"I just love you big handsome Army boys. You make this sailor's heart go pitty-pat."

"Actually, if we were to get technical - your heart sort of goes thud-de-thump - except when we make love, then it goes 'thud-thud-thud, oh take me take me hard-thump' and so on."

Blair was pretty astute himself and since Jim was on the water side, he smiled sweetly before pushing Jim backward and into the water.

"Oh, look, my big Army boy is all wet."

Jim sat on his butt, waves slapping against his back, hands behind him and planted firmly in the sand. The look he directed Blair's way was, at the very least, threatening. But that didn't stop Blair.

"Thud-thud-thud, oh take me, take me hard-thump? In your dreams, Ellison, in your dreams."

"I could use a hand here, Chief."

"I so don't think so. Up and at 'em, big boy, up and at 'em."

Jim stood and sloshed toward Blair, smiling just as sweetly as Blair had before the push. Blair backed up and held his hands out in supplication. "I'm a wounded man which means that macho 'protect my mate' shit should kick in any second now... right? Right?"

Jim nodded, looking slightly insane. "Oh, yeah, it's kicking in all right - and any minute now, you're going to feel that kick."

"Aw, come on, you love me. Besides, I could really use some polishing."

"As in thud-thud-thud, oh take me, take me hard-thump?"

"Yeah, exactly." Blair smiled winningly, letting one eye rise suggestively.

"You're so bad." Jim stood over Blair, eyes shining.

Blair nodded. "Yeah, I am. So let's go home and polish me up real good."

***

Blair stretched, raising his arms over his head, then brought them back down and gazed over at his sleeping partner. They'd made it back to the loft, wet, cold and looking like something a cat would drag in. Katie must have agreed, because she scooted back, keeping a wide berth. They'd taken a shower together and then Jim had taken care of both Blair's foot and hand, using hydrogen peroxide to clean the wounds before following up with Bactine. He'd bandaged both and then they'd gone upstairs and made love while managing to ignore the puppy, who had climbed onto the bed and curled up in the far corner to watch as her masters played around under the covers.  
Blair checked the clock on the nightstand and noted that it was after midnight. A chill had crept into the room and he shivered slightly as he realized he was alone in being wide-awake. Jim and Katie were sound asleep.

He slipped out of bed and padded quietly downstairs and into his old bedroom. He fumbled a bit in his top drawer, but finally connected with the small pill bottle. He pulled it out, popped open the lid, tapped out one pill and placed the bottle back in the drawer. In the kitchen, he got a glass of water and downed the pill before walking over to the balcony doors.

He gazed out through rain smeared windows and waited for the pill to take effect. A blur of lightening cut through the night sky and he slowly put out a hand, touched it to the glass and, for a moment, saw a puppy staring back at him, black nose pressed to the pane, tail wagging.

How many days had she stayed outside, unable to come in, he unable to touch or pet her? Seven? Eight? No, it must have been...more. Much more. She'd been alone in the backyard - and alone when she'd died. And all she'd wanted was to be loved and petted, to have her tummy rubbed - and to love and protect him.

He could picture Luli so clearly now - as if he'd been with her just yesterday.

She shouldn't have died. His fault. She'd been a puppy, harmless, loving, eager to please.

Blair realized he was crying for a puppy - dead for over twenty-five years.

He turned from the windows, walked upstairs, climbed into bed and let the pill do its work.

***

Naomi didn't fly directly to Washington, she stopped off in Oregon first - Portland to be exact. She took a taxi to Aspen Way and had him pull up in front of a lovely two story Victorian house. She asked him to wait, then walked up the brick path to the front door and rang the bell. While she waited, she found herself really wishing she'd called first.

The door opened and a woman of Naomi's age stood there, hair cut short and wispy, sparkling green eyes lighting up at the person on her doorstep. Arms outstretched, she exclaimed happily, "Oh, my Cod. Naomi!"

The petite blonde threw her arms around Naomi, hugging hard and crying. They stood like that for several minutes - just holding on the way old friends - very dear old friends - do when seeing each other for the first time in years.

Finally, Naomi broke the connection and held her friend at arms length.  
"Collie, you look wonderful. Married life agrees with you."

"It does indeed. And honey, you look as beautiful as ever - but what the hell are you doing in Portland and why didn't you call? Oh, who cares? It's just so damn good to see you. How long has it been?"

"Too long, far too long. And I didn't think to call. I'm on my way to Cascade to see Blair, but...well, I needed to stop off and pick up a few things you're still holding for us."

Colleen Maguire put her arm around her best friend's waist and led her into the house, nodding. "Blair. Our beautiful baby. How is he?"

Naomi chuckled as she answered, "We _do_ tend to think of him as our baby, don't we? But he's thirty now, Collie. Can you believe it?"

Collie walked them into the living room and offered Naomi a seat on the couch that sat in front of a large stone fireplace. She took the space next to her and immediately entwined their fingers. "Thirty? Already? Now I _do_ feel old." She patted Naomi's knee with her other hand and asked, "So, when's he going to make us grandmothers?"

Naomi grinned. "If I know my son as well as I think I do - there won't be a marriage or grandchildren. Unless they adopt and that won't be easy."

"You mean because he's a cop?"

"Well, that...and the fact that the mother would be a man."

Green eyes reflected sudden confusion as Collie gazed at Naomi like she'd just been inhabited by aliens. "Naomi? Honey? Did you just say... I mean, are you saying that Blair is...you know...gay?"

"Well, he's in love with his partner who happens to be a man and, while I'm not sure if they've done anything about it yet, yes, that would make Blair gay."

"My goodness."

"That expresses it nicely," Naomi agreed, still smiling.

"Okay, I'm not sure which question to ask first so I'll go with being polite. Would you like some tea? Oh, and how long has Blair been gay?"

"That gets both of them out of the way, so to answer you...I'll take some chamomile and I'd say about three years, no, closer to four. And you know that gay is relative term. We all have it in us to cross genders. Haven't we both said a million times that if you're open to life, you can fall in love with anyone? And we both know Blair has always been open to everything."

Shaking her head, Collie said, "Suddenly I don't feel so old anymore. Everything you just said made as much sense today is it did twenty-five years ago. I guess I'm finally politically correct." With that, she got to her feet and started for the kitchen.

Watching her, Naomi nodded. "Yes, we're both very politically correct now. We're actually 'in'. Amazing, isn't it? Baby Boomers, politically correct, liberal, and yet, totally 'in'. Who'd have thought it?"

"Not me, not twenty-five years ago," Collie said from the kitchen.

As Naomi listened to her friend make the tea, she got up and began to wander about the room. It was truly lovely, full of beautiful artwork, lovely sculptures and, on the Baby Grand, a series of exquisitely framed family photographs. She wasn't surprised to find a few of herself and Blair among them. They were, naturally, old photos, but they defined who she and Blair had become after their move to Portland. She picked one of them up and grinned. She could remember the exact moment Collie had snapped it.  
It showed her, at twenty-three, sitting cross-legged on a piece of grass and, behind her, Blair, who'd just turned six and had a huge grin on his face. He was resting his chin on her shoulder, arms wrapped around her neck and, dangling from one hand and just barely visible, Deva.

The day - the moment - was crystal clear in her memory.

Spring, Blair's birthday party in the park and he'd just finished opening all his gifts. They were stacked behind them, just out of camera range, all but ignored in favor of Deva for the purpose of the birthday photo. Not that he hadn't loved every gift - and not that he wouldn't play with them all - but nothing back then was as important as Deva. Nothing.

By the time of the party, they'd been in Portland for weeks and Blair still hadn't said one word about Mickey. The birthday party symbolized a kind of milestone for both of them - a return to normalcy for her and Blair.

Naomi fondled the photo, smiling at the grin plastered on Blair's face. How hard she'd fought to bring that grin back - to see innocence in those bright blue eyes once more.

Her eyes clouded over as she remembered those first weeks in Portland....

***

The Past -

_It had taken Naomi three days to find the small house. While searching, they'd been staying in a motel; a quaint, cheerful place. She could have settled on an apartment, but to her, now, a house was a must. No apartment for Blair, it had to be a home with a yard, a place where he could play, dig and get dirty, and have the freedom to run, yell, scream; to be a little boy._

_The trip itself had been uneventful if having a little boy who didn't speak could be considered uneventful. They'd just crossed the California border into Oregon when he'd awakened. He'd sat up, rubbed his eyes, crawled over the seat and plopped down in the passenger seat. He'd moved stiffly but urgently and once down, had wrapped his jacket around him and scooted himself into the far corner. He didn't seem surprised that they were in the car, that his toys were in the back seat with them, not to mention suitcases._

_She'd gazed over at him, waiting for him to say something, anything, but when he just stared out the window, she'd finally asked, "Honey? You okay?"_

_He'd turned to her and nodded solemnly, then turned back to the window._

_"We've left San Francisco and I'm taking us to someplace new. Okay?" Again, he'd just nodded. Eyes shuttered, no discernible expression in them._

_For the next three hours - Blair hadn't said a word. Twenty-four hours later, nothing had changed and nothing changed for the next several days as far as Blair talking. He simply didn't._

_He didn't speak in the motel, nor during the days spent moving into their new rental home, or unpacking, decorating and getting to know the city. She'd been afraid, had tried everything she could think of to get him to speak. She'd cajoled, pleaded, even threatened, but none of it had worked.  
Oh, he behaved beautifully, helped her in the kitchen, put his clothes away, even struggled to make his own bed. He'd helped her dust - but refused to stay in the room when she got the broom. She hadn't blamed him for that - she'd barely been able to touch it herself._

_In those first days, she'd look for a job and then, when she'd come home, he'd take her purse, put it on the little hall table, then her coat. She'd watch him try to hang it up but eventually, she'd take the coat hanger, reach up and hang it on the pole._

_Blair had done everything right. Everything good. But he didn't talk, didn't cry, and it had nearly killed her. After what seemed an eternity of the silence, she knew she didn't dare take him to his new school, the George Washington Elementary School. They might have taken him away from her. She thought about a child psychologist, but didn't know anyone in Portland, no one who could help her._

_Until she'd met Collie._

_It had been a bright, sunny Saturday afternoon, six weeks after moving into their new home. She'd decided to take Blair to the park on a picnic, wanting to help him get to know his new neighborhood, maybe make some friends. They found a big tree for their picnic and, after she'd spread out the blanket, she'd taken out the food. Together, they'd eaten peanut butter and banana sandwiches, sliced strawberries and Kiwi, and a soda for her and juice for him. She'd kept up a running stream of conversation, Blair listening to every word, his eyes watching her face, head bobbing up and down in acknowledgment of her words, but adding nothing himself._

_Then - out of the blue - a dog yipped._

_Blair had whipped his head around, eyes frantically searching as he'd gotten to his feet, looking as if he would bolt. He turned in every direction, mouth moving silently, forming one word: Luli._

_Finally, a woman had broken through a stand of trees off to their left, clearly searching for something. Then she'd started yelling, "Cinder, come here girl, come Cinder!"_

_Blair, hearing the name 'Cinder', had dropped his head and sat back down. After a moment, a small black dog ran toward the woman, yipping happily - but Blair never even looked._

_A small girl a year or two older than Blair had run up to the blonde and Naomi had watched the dog leap into the little girl's arms. Then another woman had joined them and she, the little girl and the dog left._

_But the blonde had remained._

_Naomi had then leaned over to pull Blair onto her lap. As she'd combed her fingers through his soft hair, she'd crooned, "Sorry, baby, sorry." That's when the girl had walked over to them...._

_"Hi, I'm Colleen. Collie to my friends. Is everything alright?"_

_Naomi smiled up at her, figured she was about her own age, and nodded. "Everything's fine. My son...we lost...a few weeks ago...his puppy...."_

_"Oh, dear. Of course. He heard Cinder barking and thought maybe...sure, I understand."_

_Blair, who'd ducked his head into his mother's chest, now turned to look at the woman. He watched her, a small frown on his face._

_She held out her hand and said, "I'm Collie, and you are?"_

_Naomi waited breathlessly - but Blair just dropped his head on her shoulder and blushed._

_"Blair. His name is Blair. And I'm Naomi. Was that your little girl?"_

_"Gosh, no. I was just helping her find her dog. I was jogging. No kids. No husband. Just me and a fish named Sylvester."_

_Blair lifted his head again and now regarded Collie with some interest, which brought a smile to her face. He smiled back, shyly, then ducked his head back down._

_"How old is he?"_

_"Five."_

_"He's wonderful. Cutest kid I've seen ever. By the way, I live over on Spenser Avenue. You?"_

_"We're practically neighbors. I live on Elm." Naomi indicated the blanket and left-over food. "Please, have a seat. We've got some sandwiches left."_

_That was Collie needed. She dropped down right next to them, not the least bit shy herself and, after giving Blair a conspiratorial grin, helped herself to the basket and a sandwich. He grinned back._

_As she munched, she asked curiously, "Are you the ones who rented that cute little brick jobby?"_

_Naomi nodded. "I wanted a yard for him."_

***

Naomi smiled as she continued to finger the frame. She and Collie had everything in common back then. They'd both been free spirits, young and on their own - and more importantly, Collie had taken to Blair immediately - fallen for him hard.

And he loved her right back almost as quickly.

That day in the park, Naomi had told Collie all about Mickey, their escape and about Blair's silence. And miracle of miracles, Collie had known exactly what to do. She'd recommended a friend, a wonderful woman, Dr. Karen Lewis, who had an office just two miles away....***

*****

The Past -

_The office was bright and airy, with comic books on the tables and toys on the floor. As Naomi led Blair inside and up to the counter, his small hand in hers, he looked around and noted the Legos right away. He looked at the pictures on the wall, took in the comfortable-looking couch and chairs and the coloring books scattered on the tables - with crayons. Finally he looked up at the lady on the other side of the counter; the lady wearing a white uniform. As he listened to his mommy talk, he tilted his head and pulled away from her, his  
expression one of surprise and hurt._

_Naomi, realizing that Blair's hand was no longer in hers, looked down and saw the expression and the tears that were starting to form. Kneeling down, she reached for him but he stepped back, shaking his head._

_"Honey, it's okay. You're going to see a nice lady who's going to help you. That's all. Okay?"_

_He stared back at her, unblinking._

_"Blair, please, don't look like that. I'm worried about you and they're going to try to help both of us. Help us deal with...Mickey. I'll be right here. Promise."_

_Blair regarded her for a moment - and then turned, walked over to the couch, got up, sat down and scooted back, his legs stretched out in front of him._

_Relieved, she straightened up and went back to finishing the paperwork. When she was done, she sat down next to her son and, together, they waited._

_Several minutes later, the door next to the counter opened and Dr. Karen Lewis stepped out. She was in her late forties, short and stocky, with brown hair cut in a page boy, a few streaks of gray allowed to run free. She smiled at Naomi, then at Blair - and the warmth and empathy in her eyes convinced Naomi that she was doing the right thing._

_"Hi, Ms. Sandburg, Blair. I'm Karen."_

_Naomi got up with Blair and, together, they stepped forward. Naomi extended a hand and she and Karen shook hands. Then Karen knelt in front of Blair and held her hand out to him. He looked up at his mother, then at the doctor...and finally shook her hand._

_Smiling, Karen said, "Blair, I'm going to go into my office with your mommy for a few minutes, do you mind?"_

_Blair frowned at that, but shook his head that he didn't mind._

_"Thank you. When your mother and I are done, I'd like you to join me. Will you do that?"_

_Blair's wide, pale blue eyes, framed by thick, dark lashes, regarded the doctor, then moved up to his mother again, who smiled reassuringly. He nodded._

_"Thank you, Blair. You'll like my office - I do. It's very comfortable." She gently ruffled the light brown curls, then turned back to Naomi. "Ms. Sandburg, Gretchen, my assistant will take care of Blair while we're inside, so don't worry. Shall we?"_

_She indicated the door and Naomi followed her inside, suddenly terribly nervous. She'd rarely been ill, her only real experience with any doctors having occurred during her pregnancy and, later, Blair's pediatrician. But now she was faced with a very real problem, the mental health of her son, and she didn't have a clue as to how best to help him. Seeking out the assistance of a psychologist was scary and now that she was here, she was starting to have doubts._

_"Naomi, please - have a seat."_

_Smiling a bit warily, she took the chair directly opposite Dr. Lewis' desk. As she sat down, she wondered about the decor as it was very professional, with no hint that children were her patients._

_As if knowing her thoughts, Karen said, "I work with the children in the attached room. This is my actual office. Does that help?"_

_Blushing, Naomi said, "I **was** wondering - it's so - you know - businesslike."_

_Karen smiled and nodded in agreement. "Would you like to see where I'll be talking with Blair?"_

_"Please."_

_Karen rose and Naomi followed her to a second door and into the adjoining room - which looked a great deal like a child's dream bedroom. The wallpaper was lovely and serene, with blue skies, a friendly, smiling sun and wispy clouds. Each wall was broken in half by a painted fence and, below the fence, every type of animal romped, played, and posed._

_Next to a play table, a box full of toys and books invited children to play. The whole atmosphere was one of joy, comfort and safety - and any child would feel good in this room._

_"How do you like it?"_

_"It's wonderful. Blair will be in heaven."_

_"Good, now let's get down to business. Have a seat and we'll talk."_

_The 'seat' was a large, overstuffed beige couch. Both women got comfortable and Karen waited expectantly._

_Seeing the expectation, Naomi realized the ball was in her court. She cleared her throat and said, "I guess I should start with Mickey...er, he was my boyfriend. We were planning on getting married. I'd been living with him months." She stopped then, her throat closing up._

_Karen smiled warmly. "I take it there's no Mickey now?"_

_Naomi shook her head. "We were supposed to be married several weeks ago but had to postpone it."_

_"And why was that?"_

_"Blair became ill the same weekend. The flu." She shrugged, trying to look at ease. "I had no choice."_

_Naomi could tell immediately that Karen caught the defensive way in which she'd said how she'd had no choice. She wondered if she should go on...._

_"I can understand that. Like you said, you had no choice."_

_Smiling in surprise, Naomi nodded. "Right. Anyway, then Luli died - oh, she was Blair's puppy." She looked down at her hands. "Mickey and I had a fight and he left in anger and...ran her over...and Blair saw her...under the tires. Then I came home one day to horrible screaming...."_

_Naomi felt her jaw clench at the memory of Blair's screams and Mickey's voice, the yelling, the hatred in his tone, and felt the tremors running through her._

_"Take a deep breath and count to ten, Naomi. Then when you're ready, go on."_

_It was said so softly - and yet with such command, Naomi instinctively obeyed. A few moments later, she said, "I...once inside the house, I found Mickey hurting my son. They were in Blair's bedroom and Blair was crying and screaming and Mickey had a broom - but Blair had crawled under his bed - to get away."_

_Naomi took a deep, shuddering breath, looked at Karen, saw only kindness and understanding, so once again, she went on. "I kicked Mickey out, I hit him... with the broom. I got Blair out from under the bed and he had welts, horrible welts on his back, arms and legs. That was it. I knew we couldn't stay - that Mickey would never be allowed near my son again, so I packed us up and left that same night. He woke up when we were crossing out of California and into Oregon - and he hasn't spoken a word since. He's good, wonderful. Does everything right but won't speak. He nods or shakes his head, but he won't talk. Not a word."_

_She exhaled in relief. She was finished._

_Karen took a few moments to study her patient's mother, noted her extreme youth, flashed back to the boy, how tidy he was, how clean and new his clothes - and the expressions that had run across his features. She'd also caught how compliant he'd been. Climbing onto the couch, folding his hands and patiently waiting. She cocked her head and asked, "Do you believe Mickey struck Blair prior to that one incident?"_

_"I - don't know. I don't. Blair has always been so active." She smiled. "He's always had so much energy and he runs when he could walk and even before Mickey, there were always bruises from falling or tripping...but I worked, you see? And at night, so Mickey took care of him when I left and so...I would come home to new bruises, you see?"_

_"All right. So Blair is very energetic, but would you characterize him as clumsy?"_

_"No, absolutely not. He's the most self-possessed, graceful little boy in the world. Okay, he's never been athletically inclined and I'm not saying he doesn't fall, because he does. He gets so wrapped up in whatever he'd doing, he forgets to look, you know? But he always just picks himself up and keeps on going." Suddenly she grinned. "He really did run before he walked."_

_"How many injuries have you personally experienced with him once he started walking?"_

_Naomi bit her lower lip in concentration. "Skinned knees, bumped elbows...and he bumped his head a couple of times...but that's about it."_

_"So that's what you found when you'd come home from work - after Mickey took care of him?"_

_"No-o-o, the bruises were - bruises, you see? Large bruises. Sometimes. But there was always a reason. And later...well, Mickey lost his job not long after we started living together...then again this summer, but he got it back. He and Blair were in Yosemite when I got the letter saying that the freeze was over and they wanted him to start right away so I drove up and wanted to surprise him. But when I got there...Blair was...had...he'd wandered off, you see? Just just as they were finally going to form a search party though, Blair was brought back to camp by some teenager and we came home. For awhile, everything was all right, until Blair got sick and I had to cancel the wedding. That's when Mickey lost his job again. You see? I had to work two jobs, I had to."_

_Her words had begun to run together, tumbling over one another and she knew she was talking to convince herself rather than explaining to Dr. Lewis._

_Karen lifted a hand to stop the flow and, when Naomi took a calming breath, asked, "Is Blair's father involved in his upbringing at all? Does Blair even see him?"_

_Naomi looked away as she whispered, "No. I don't know who...I don't exactly know which... Look, I was at a party, I was very young, the party was kind of wild...and I ended up pregnant." She looked up then, eyes blazing. "But I **wanted** my baby. I was ecstatic."_

_The picture was unfolding as Karen took what had been said - and what had not - and she began to shift pieces of the puzzle together...._

_"What about your parents, Naomi?"_

_"They wanted me to get an abortion. They actually wanted me to destroy that beautiful boy out there...to end the life of my baby!" As the last words were spoken, Naomi's voice rose in anger and, even after all these years, disbelief. But then she quieted and added, "But I couldn't, so I left home. I - ran away. They refused to support me if I carried Blair to term, so I left and I haven't spoken to them in over five years and I never will."_

_"Not even now?"_

_"No. I doubt they've changed and there's no way I'd subject Blair to their hate and their unbending beliefs. No way."_

_As they continued to talk, Naomi was acutely aware of her son, just outside, alone and waiting patiently...._

***

"Naomi?"

The picture clattered to the floor as Naomi whirled to find Collie standing by the couch, frowning in concern.

"Oh, God, I hope it didn't break." She quickly bent, retrieved the photo and sighed in relief to find it unbroken. "I'm sorry, Collie. I was - remembering."

"Our baby?"

Shaking her head, she said, "Doctor Karen Lewis and the weeks of therapy." She put the photo down on the piano and rubbed her eyes. "God, Collie, I still don't know the truth - even after all these years, I don't know if Blair suffered more at the hands of that bastard than we thought."

Naomi opened her eyes and stared down at the smiling face in the picture. She touched the glass protecting the photo and whispered, "I have to ask him, but I don't know how."

"Yes, you do. And you will because you know your son." Collie stepped between Naomi and the piano in order to get her full attention. "Do you really believe that just one incident with Mickey - like the one you told me about - would traumatize Blair to the degree we witnessed?" At the panicked look in Naomi's eyes, Collie hastened to add, "Don't get that look, honey. You know Blair's tough; a real survivor." She moved to Naomi's side and put her arm around her friend's waist. "You know, what's really puzzled me all these years is why Blair kept quiet about it? That's so not him."

"Karen surmised that Mickey verbally abused Blair as well but never found out what he'd said to him." She groaned. "Something else I should have asked him about years ago."

Naomi picked up another photograph, this one of Blair only, taken a few days after his birthday. The three of them had gone to the beach and Collie had captured Blair sitting in the sand near the water's edge, legs splayed out in front of him. He was digging a hole in the wet sand, his pail and shovel sitting beside him as he'd turned to face Collie, who'd just called out to him. He flashed her a 1000-megawatt smile, his head slightly tilted and she'd snapped the photo; a moment of supreme happiness captured forever.

Naomi remembered the day as clearly as yesterday. The clear blue sky above water that was calm and almost turquoise in color. The sand, warm and inviting and, of course, Blair. He'd been so excited about the beach that he'd popped out of the car before Collie had even shut down, his six year old legs pumping madly as he ran down to the water's edge, turning only at the last minute to wave impatiently at them, urging them to hurry.

As they'd taken the chairs and beach towels out of the car and joined Blair, he'd stripped off his blue and white shirt, thrown it haphazardly in their general direction, kicked off his sandals and bolted into the ocean. He was screaming wildly, laughing as the water sloshed over his head, curls flying in every direction as he shook them, much like a dog. He'd yelled then, demanded they join him in the water. At that exact moment, a large wave knocked him over.

Naomi remembered a moment of panic on her part, but Collie was laughing. She held Naomi back, saying, "No, watch, look. He's okay. He loves it."

So she'd watched and, sure enough, he'd popped right back up, spluttering, his small body heaving as he caught his breath again. But oh, his eyes...sparkling in excitement, round as saucers, but ready for the next wave.

Ready - for - the - next - wave.

Unafraid.

In the months and years ahead, he'd never been afraid. No, she corrected herself. That wasn't right. Of course there'd been times of fear, but he'd never let it stop him. Never. He'd pushed through the fear, taken the bad, the many bad things, and the good, and allowed them to mold him.

She smiled at the thought and, at the same moment, another thought came unbidden to her mind; one that wiped the smile from her face.

Never once, in all the following years, had he ever referred to Mickey or Luli.

Never.

Not once from the moment he started talking again.

Her mind went back to that day, a few weeks after his first visit with Karen....

***

The Past -

_The door to Karen's office opened and Blair stepped out, shoulders slumped, head bowed and looking all the world like a dejected puppy. He refused to look at her so she looked over at Karen, who simply nodded solemnly._

_"Blair, honey, why don't you sit down for a few minutes while I take my turn with Doctor Karen, okay?"_

_Blair gave a barely perceptible nod before moving slowly to the couch and climbing up to sit down, hands once again clasped in his lap._

_Worried, Naomi walked in, but unable to take her eyes off her son. She hesitated just inside, but Karen gently took her arm and guided her the rest of the way while shutting the door behind them._

_Once they were both seated, Naomi asked angrily, "What happened today? He wouldn't even look me in the eyes."_

_"I know. I gave him some rather difficult things to think about today. That's why I wanted to talk before you took him home." Karen made herself more comfortable before continuing. "Naomi, it's been weeks and he's still not talking. That's not good. I really expected to have him talking four visits ago, but it's not happening and I can't begin to deal with the real issues until I can get him to tell me what happened with Mickey, what Mickey said to him, if anything. We both know that Blair is punishing himself and today, with the dolls, I let him know that he was punishing you as well."_

_" **What?!** " Naomi stood quickly, looking angrily down at her son's doctor. " **You did what**?"_

_Karen reached up and tugged Naomi back down. "Naomi, listen to me. It's possible Blair is punishing you on purpose. Don't you see? And if so, I've got to find out. **We've** got to find out. If he isn't, maybe we'll have a breakthrough, maybe he'll talk, but if he is, he'll escalate the punishment."_

_"You can't be serious? All this time with him and you really believe he could be punishing me, let alone that he'd escalate it?"_

_"He's not talking, Naomi. I don't know. Do you?"_

_"I know my son and he is **not** punishing me. Why would he?"_

_Karen turned her face away for a moment to gear up to give this child some hard truths. And yes, she had to constantly remind herself that Naomi was in fact, just a child herself. She faced Naomi again. "If Mickey had been abusing Blair all along, don't you think he'd have some resentment toward his mother, the person who failed to stop it?"_

_"But, but... you said, you didn't think, I mean--"_

_"I said there may have been verbal abuse...and perhaps previous abuse as well, but that until we got Blair talking, we couldn't know anything for certain."_

_"So, what now?" Naomi barely managed to whisper out the question, her mind completely unraveling with the idea that her son would punish her._

_"If he isn't punishing you, I believe he'll talk. I know this is harsh, but his future mental health depends on his talking, and talking soon."_

_"So what should I do now?"_

_"Nothing different. Just let me know if he starts acting out in any way. He may start breaking things, getting angry, that kind of thing."_

_Naomi swallowed the bile rising in her throat and stood leave._

_***_

_Her fault._

_This was her fault. Karen hadn't said it, not in so many words, but Naomi felt it as surely as if it had been written in the clouds by one of those skywriters._

_She put Blair into the car, pulled the seatbelt across his lap and snapped it shut. Since leaving the doctor's, he hadn't looked at her once but he'd shown no anger either, just a painful sadness, evident in his body movements; the way he hung his head, the slow, shuffling walk._

_She took him to Farrell's Ice Cream Parlor, hoping to cheer him up - and his spirits did lift a bit as they walked in. He loved the colors, balloons, the waiters and waitresses in their uniforms and straw hats, all of it. He loved it when they played their instruments and sang while ringing bells and blowing whistles if someone finished the famous Pig Trough. Now she watched his eyes roam, taking it all in and, for a moment, allowed herself to hope._

_She ordered him his usual, a grilled cheese sandwich, extra crispy fries and a chocolate malt, which they'd split. When their food arrived, they sat side by side in the booth and dunked their French fries into the malt, a tradition given them by Collie, who said the combination of chocolate and salt was unbeatable. As they dipped, Naomi caught him with a small uncertain smile, his eyes searching hers as if asking something. Without thinking, she bent toward and, French fry in hand, kissed the tip of his nose as she whispered, "I love you, baby, I love you." She then tapped his nose with her fry and smiled._

_Seemingly satisfied, he smiled shyly back and, before she could blink, he'd eaten the fry right out of her hand. He waggled his eyebrows at her and, grinning, she dipped another fry in the malt and offered it. He snapped it up and they went on like that until they'd both finished the fries and the malt, leaving Blair to make the requisite sucking noise through the straw as he drained the last of the malt._

_Watching him finish off the malt, she knew Karen was wrong. It was as simple as that._

_In the weeks of Blair's silence, they'd learned to communicate with each other, without his own words and in spite of the fact that talking was one of Blair's favorite things in the world to do. He'd always loved to chatter, question, to share. He'd even talked in his sleep sometimes._

_Now, he simply talked with his hands and his face and that meant he couldn't possibly being punishing her because they were communicating. No, he was punishing himself, robbing himself of his favorite thing: words._

_That had to be it._

_***_

_Naomi finished the story with the all-important, "The End", tucked the covers under Blair's chin and, with a kiss on the tip of his nose, said, "Okay, sleep tight, baby, and I'll see you in the morning."_

_He grinned sleepily and rolled onto his side, burrowed his head deeper into the pillow and, after yawning, closed his eyes. She turned out the bedside lamp and, with a final loving look, headed for the living room._

_She curled up on the couch and, leaving the room in darkness, tried to think. Unfortunately, there were too many thoughts, all bombarding her and impossible to separate. Thoughts of her mother and father, of the night Blair was conceived, the party, all the men and women, her own shame and sickness the next morning. And of course, weeks later, hearing the news that she was pregnant._

_She could still hear the hate and disgust in her mother's voice and the disappointment and hurt in her father's after she'd told them._

_As Naomi remembered, she began to cry, the tears falling slowly at first, but as she was hit with more and more memories, as she wondered again about all Blair's hurts, she began to sob, shoulders shaking. She grabbed a pillow and covered her face to hide the sounds of her anguish but the sobbing couldn't be completely stifled. She cried her heart out, cried for her beautiful, trusting, loving son...until she felt the couch dip next to her and a small hand tried to pull the pillow from her face._

_She put it down and looked into Blair's sleepy, tear-filled eyes._

_As they stared at each other, Blair put his hand out and his small fingers touched her cheek. "sorry mommy, so sorry, don't cry. i'll be good, i promise."_

_She pulled him to her breast, holding tightly and rocking, her tears escalating, as she sobbed out, "But you are good, sweetie. You're the best little boy in the whole world. You're my little boy and I love you more than anything on this earth or in heaven."_

_He shook his head. "not good, but will be." He wrapped his arms around her neck and buried his head under her chin as he whispered, "love you, mommy, love you."_

_Almost angrily, she held him away and frowned. "Blair, you are good. Do you understand? You're very good." She tilted his head up so he'd have to look at her. "Do you understand what being good actually means?"_

_His eyes were wide as he stared back at her and, somewhat hesitantly, he nodded._

_"Okay, tell me what you think it means."_

_His gaze dropped and his voice, when he finally answered, was so low she had to lean forward to catch his words._

_"mmm, not spilling. being quiet. doing what i'm to-old, when i'm to-old."_

_As he said the word told, his mouth made a long, round 'o' and he trembled ever so slightly._

_"Honey, we all spill things, it happens all the time and it's definitely not a bad thing - nor does spilling something make us bad. It's just an accident. As for being quiet, well, yes, there are times when it's the desired behavior, like when we're in Temple, right?" At his nod, she went on. "And of course, we both need to be quiet when we go the movies or when I take you to the library - but you know that and you're always good - although sometimes we both need to remind each other, don't we?" She grinned and her heart gave a joyous leap when it was returned by Blair._

_"Blair, sweetie, you're a wonderful little boy and you've always do what you're told. Although...you did like to procrastinate when it was time to clean your room or pick up your toys."_

_Hearing the smile in her voice, Blair looked up again and, brows knitted together, he asked, "porcast-nate?"_

_Laughing, she corrected, "Pro-cras-ti-nate. It means to put off doing something right away." She tapped his nose and said teasingly, "Ring any bells?"_

_He sucked his lower lip, chewing it in thought and then nodded as he favored her with a shy smile. "when i was watching 'toons."_

_"Exactly. You'd want to watch cartoons so you'd put off cleaning up after yourself. But Blair, sweetie, that wasn't bad, it was normal. We all do that too. So I'd remind you, remember? And remember how sometimes you had to remind me to do the laundry because you know how much I hate that task."_

_He nodded excitedly, sparkle sneaking back into those big blues. "always have to tell you when i were out of underwear." He giggled as if sharing in some deep, wonderful conspiracy._

_"You got it, pumpkin. Lots of things we hate to do, so we try and find excuses not to do them, or we get so wrapped up in something we enjoy, we forget to do the stuff we don't like."_

_"and that's not bad?"_

_"No, sweetie, not bad at all. You have never done that was bad. Ever."_

_Suddenly looking ashamed, he whispered, "spilled juice on the carpet. and chocolate milk, and my ce-real."_

_She cocked her head and thought hard on how she needed to answer him, to differentiate reality from what he experienced with Mickey. Finally she asked, "Did you do it on purpose?"_

_He looked up in surprise and shook his head emphatically, "no, no... goofed, just goofed."_

_"So it was an accident, then?"_

_He nodded, waiting, as if she were about to pronounce sentence on him._

_"I spill all the time, don't I? And did you get mad at me when I spilled your ice cream a couple of days ago or when Collie spilled the lemonade? Were either of us bad?"_

_He pursed his lips, giving the question great thought...and she somehow knew it wasn't whether she or Collie were bad, but rather puzzling out how normal it was to spill._

_Finally he said in wonder, "no, not bad." Then trying hard not to grin, added, "just - goofy."_

_"Goofy. Exactly. But definitely not bad. Bad is hurting people or being mean or destructive on purpose. You could never do any of those things, see? So you could never be bad."_

_He slowly nodded, his eyes telling her that maybe, just maybe, he got it now. He dropped his head happily back onto her shoulder and she nuzzled his sweet neck, loving the smell of him, the smallness of her baby - and wishing this particular moment could go on forever - that she could keep him just this way, young and needing her - innocent and loving._

_For several minutes, they stayed like that, holding and rocking...and then it hit her._

_She'd been having a conversation with her son._

_He'd - talked._

_Looking down at him, she said, awestruck, "Blair, honey, you're talking."_

_Soft curls rubbed her chin as he nodded and then patted her cheek. "i was trying to be good."_

_Closing her eyes and resting her chin on the top of his head, she said with all her heart, "Baby, you could never be anything but."_

_She continued to rock, holding him, letting his body slip down into her arms as his head rested in the crook of her arm. Eventually his eyes drifted closed, long, dark lashes fluttering. She gazed down at his face, so innocent in repose, and traced a finger over his lips and up his cheek before dropping a kiss on each eye lid._

_Naomi sat in the darkened living room, cradling her son, watching him sleep, thanking God in her wisdom for giving this child to her, and supremely grateful that Blair was talking again._

_In the final hours before night gave gently away to the dawn, she made a promise to her son. A promise to keep him safe, keep him away from the horrors of the world. It was a promise she could never truly honor, but then, she was only twenty-two and still remarkably naive._

***

"Naomi?"

"What?"

"Where were you, just now?"

Naomi took her eyes away from the picture on the piano and looked at Collie. "I was back to the night Blair started talking again. I made him a promise, a promise to protect him - but I think I failed, Collie."

"Aw, sweetie, you didn't fail. Blair's a wonderful man, he was a wonderful child and a great teenager. How can you think you did anything but your best?"

"Because I must have known that Mickey had been terrorizing Blair. Hurting him. But I did nothing and then I failed to ever even talk about it with Blair. I even stopped taking him to Karen once he started talking. That means I just perpetuated the abuse. I was an ostrich, Collie. I buried my head in the sand."

"Naomi, you were a child yourself. A child who'd had a child - so don't berate yourself. You were a wonderful mother."

Naomi turned away from the piano to gaze out the large picture window and onto the peaceful street. "No, I was a good friend. Maybe that was my mistake."

Collie reached around Naomi and plucked up another picture. Almost shoving it under her nose, she demanded, "Look at this one, Naomi. Look closely and then tell me you weren't a good mother."

Naomi stared at the photo, her breath catching. It had to be fairly recent, maybe a year to a year and half old - and one she'd never seen before. He was sitting on the ground in front of Hargrove Hall, surrounded by students and wearing a huge grin. They were all waving at the camera while several in the back held up a banner that read, 'Favorite Teacher - Blair Sandburg'. Across the bottom of the photo, in Blair's sprawling handwriting, were the words, 'Aunt Collie, here you go! Love, Blair'.

"This just proves how bad a mother I've been. I ruined this for him. He was a great teacher and he loved it and academia. But because of my thoughtless actions, he lost everything."

Collie led her friend back to the couch, sat her down, and placed the tea in her hands, urging her to drink.

"Before we get into Blair, academia and the fact that he's now a cop, let's get back to basics. What brought all this on now? I mean, Mickey's dead and Blair's fine--"

Collie got no further as Naomi jumped up, spilling tea over the rim of the mug.

"What do you mean, Mickey's dead?" Naomi nearly screeched.

Thoroughly confused, Collie stared at her friend before finally asking, "Just where have you been for the last several weeks - and when in the hell did you last talk to Blair?"

Shame overcoming her shock, she sunk back down and admitted, "It's been...a while. I left Blair a few days after the press conference. I did try to reach him a couple of times while he was at the academy but we never connected. Later...I just couldn't."

Collie canted her head and asked in disbelief, "So you're saying you haven't seen or talked with Blair for - my god - over nine months?"

Naomi gave a mute nod of her head, a flush suffusing her cheeks.

"Why...okay, why, exactly, are you here now?" she asked quietly.

"I've been...meditating in Tapaxan - you know, the mission? Anyway, I finally went into town, finally feeling that I could face Blair. So I collected my messages and found one from Sammy on my voice mail. He said he'd sent me a couple of articles on Blair, about his being hurt, and then there was a message from Jim about Mickey and that...Blair needed me."

"But you didn't know any of it? The shoot-out? The coma? Mickey's death?"

A muted shake.

"Oh, sweetie."

"He's okay?"

"He's fine now. I found out months after the fact myself. Honeymoons, don't you know. But I called Blair several weeks ago and he's fine - and he shared what happened to Mickey."

Gripping Collie's hand, Naomi pleaded, "Tell me, Collie. Tell me everything."

***

Jim woke up to licking. Unfortunately, it was animal licking, not the more preferred Blair-licking. Damn. Puppy breath huffed into his face and he opened one eye to gaze into a golden one. "Morning, Katie."

A pink tongue responded as Jim turned his head to find his partner soundly - and peacefully - sleeping, head buried in his pillow, covers pulled all the way up to his nose. Jim smiled. A night without a nightmare - maybe they were finally getting somewhere. He buried his fingers Katie's warm fur, scratching lightly as he watched Blair sleep. Finally he said, "Come on, Katie. You and I are going downstairs, you're going to take your morning constitution, piddle at every tree, leave your mark for all eternity, then I'll stop and pickup some of Blair's favorite bagels."

Blair never moved, his chest rising and falling gently, his body totally relaxed.

God, it felt good to see Blair really sleeping.

Jim pulled on his jeans, grabbed a sweatshirt, put it on, slipped into a pair of loafers and then he and Katie went downstairs. Jim snapped her into her harness and leash, grabbed his keys and jacket and slipped out the front door.

***

His mouth felt like cotton, his blood like overcooked pudding. Blair sluggishly rolled over, brought a hand to his face to shield his eyes from the sun beating down from the skylight and carefully opened his eyes.

And immediately closed them again.

If he didn't know better, he'd say he was suffering from a hangover. But one has to actually drink for that - and he hadn't. He finally tried to open his eyes again, and succeeded. He squinted at the clock on the nightstand. Ten o'clock.

Wow, when was the last time he'd slept this late? Like - fifteen years ago?

He heard the front door open and the quick tapping alerted him to the fact that a small puppy would soon be landing on his stomach. He wasn't wrong. Katie ran up the stairs, took a wild leap and actually made it to the bed.

"Well, good morning to you too...and who needs to shave with you around?"

The puppy was frantically licking Sandburg's cheeks, nose and chin even as her tail thumped a happy one-note tune on Blair's chest.

"Hey, you slept well last night. Feeling okay?"

Blair turned away from the lethal pink tongue to see Jim standing on the top step, smiling broadly.

"Feel great, rested - and now - clean shaven thanks to Katie, the wonder dog."

At hearing her name, she gave a little bounce and a happy yip. Jim's grin widened as he walked over and sat on the edge of the bed. He started playing with her while Blair brought his arms up and clasped his hands behind his head. He watched lazily as Jim's fingers dove for cover and the puppy pounced, a small growl emanating from deep within her chest.

For several minutes Jim played and Blair happily observed, taking full advantage of the time to come fully awake and to shake the unexpected cobwebs from his brain.

As Jim let his fingers poke Katie from under the blanket, he said, "I brought your favorite bagels. Ready for some breakfast?"

"Later. Right now, I feel like some exercise. Strenuous exercise."  
"Weight lifting, perhaps?"

"Not so much, no."

"Okay, push-ups?"

"You're getting closer."

"You might just have me stumped, Chief."

"Fuck ups," Blair said with a smile.

"How did I miss that all American exercise? Just saw Chuck Norris on television the other day and he never said a word about the relative merits of fuck-ups - but then his definition might be wildly diverse from yours."

Laughing, Blair said, "Would you quit talking and fuck me up already?"

Jim laughed, the one that could send Blair into orbit, and gingerly picked up the pup, set her down on the floor, quickly stripped, then threw himself unceremoniously onto the bed and, coincidentally, onto Blair.

"Okay, no more muffins for you in the morning, and we're cutting you back to Wonderburger once a month. You weigh a ton."

Jim propped himself up on his elbows and regarded his partner. He threw in a pout, just for effect, as he asked, "Are you saying I'm fat?"

"I'm _saying_ you weigh more than Little Stogie."

"You think I'm fat."

"I think you should get to the business at hand, if you know what I mean?"

1 don't know, Blair... I just don't think I can get it up, what with you thinking I'm fat and all...."

"So, what do you call this?" Blair quizzed, as he stroked a very up cock.

"That's - fat"

"Well, give me some of that fat, big boy."

They were both grinning as Jim lowered his lips to Blair's. After one deep kiss, Jim raised himself on his hands, hovering over Blair and smiling. "See? Push ups first, fuck ups second."

"Well, drop down and give me five."

***

Jim was sprawled across Blair, his sweat mingling with Blair's. Their breathing had finally evened out but neither one had any desire to move - except Blair did move enough to raise his hand and rest it on the back of Jim's head. As he stroked the soft buzz, he whispered, "God, I love you."

The words were breathed out, spoken almost reverently, causing Jim to lift his head and look at his partner. He almost stopped breathing at the love in Blair's eyes, at the way he was taking in every inch of Jim's face. Jim traced a line down Blair's jaw as he said, voice full of awe, "No one has ever looked at me with such love, no one. What did I do to deserve you, Chief?"

"I think you've got that backwards." Then Blair grinned. "Of course, Simon would say we're both so pathetic, we deserve each other."

Jim frowned at how Blair's words were so at odds with his expression. For a moment, he flashed back to a Christmas - he was eleven and had opened up the last gift to find that it was the one thing he'd wanted more than anything else. He'd gazed at it with such love - and worry - because he'd known, known that he wouldn't - _couldn't_ \- have it long. And he'd been right. A week after school resumed, he'd received a 'B' in history and his father had confiscated the gift - a 'T-Bird' model car - and given to the Salvation Army.

Blair was looking at him just as he'd looked at the model car Christmas morning. As if he expected not to have him long, as if someone would take Jim away and give him to the Salvation Army.

In an effort to reassure him, he leaned in and whispered in Blair's ear, "I'm not going anywhere, Chief. Ever." He rolled them over so Blair was on top and wrapped his arms and legs around him - and then held on - tight.

***

Jim was puttering out on the balcony, moving plants, furniture, even the BBQ, obviously deep in one of his 'Sentinel must rearrange the cave' moods. From his position on the couch, Blair watched sleepily, still feeling the after-effects of being loved and well fucked; Jim's words still ringing in his ears.

Katie was curled up in the crook of Blair's arm, sound asleep, having become quickly bored with Jim's antics. All told, it was a lazy, wonderful Sunday. So wonderful, that when the phone rang, Blair let the machine answer.

_"This is the Ellison residence. Jim is busy cleaning the refrigerator with a toothbrush and I'm busy taking pictures so that I can prove just how anal he can be, so leave a message. You know Jim will return the call shortly and, if it's for me, I might return the call before the end of the century."_

The machine clicked and a voice said, "Detective Ellison? This is Dr. Webster. Sorry to bother you on a Sunday, but I know you'd want to know that I've found the dental records you were requesting. Should I send them to the station or do you want to pick them up? You have my number - just let me know."

The click of the machine going off left the loft in silence again.

Blair knew what dental records were being referred to, and he smiled. If he and Jim were right, another case would be solved tomorrow. He snuggled down further and let his eyes close, smiling as he listened to Jim, his mumblings about a life partner who was too good to help out in the cave....

As Blair slipped off, his mind seemed to drift back...to another doctor, another time....

***

The Past -

_Since his mother and the doctor had gone into the office, Blair hadn't moved from his place on the couch, hands clasped tightly in his lap, head down._

_He just knew this was it...and he'd tried so hard to be good, to be perfect, to be what his mother would want. But here he was, at a doctor's office, and he knew doctors examined you and maybe had you taken to someplace else, especially if you were bad. Hadn't his cousin Robbie told him that last year? Of course, Robbie wasn't a real cousin so maybe Robbie was wrong._

_Maybe._

_His lower lip trembled and he bit down - hard - as squeezed his hands together even harder while the minutes ticked by._

_The woman behind the window smiled at him, but he didn't smile back and he should have, because that's what good little boys did. They were polite and smiled...._

_Blair lifted his head and gave her a small grin, just enough because she nodded and went back to typing - so he dropped his chin to his chest again. But then the door opened and his mommy came out and knelt beside him._

_"Honey, Karen would like you to join her now, okay? Everything will be all right, I promise. You and me, always."_

_He looked at her little finger - held out to him - and he really smiled then because this was their special signal. He hooked his little finger around hers and they shook. She stood, lifted him in her arms and, together, they went into the office. She set him on his feet, kissed him on the cheek, whispered, "I'm right outside." And then she left him._

_***_

_Karen sat on the couch, pad in hand and observed Blair. He had not, as expected, said a word since Naomi had brought him into her office so Karen had taken charge, showed him into her patient office, explained that he could do anything he wanted, play with anything he wanted and she would just keep him company._

_He'd looked at her strangely then, almost distrusting, until she'd smiled and picked up a bright red fire engine, revved up the wheels, set it down, and they'd both watched as it careened across the floor. Blair had started to chase after it but caught himself, gave her a quick look and, at her nod, had proceeded to walk more sedately over to the engine. He'd then picked it up, walked to a far corner and had began to play._

_Ten minutes earlier, there'd been a kind of breakthrough when she'd gotten on the floor with him, albeit several feet away, and started to play with three dolls. At first, Blair had ignored her, preferring to unravel the mysteries of several transformers available to him. But gradually, he'd begun to sneak a few peeks at her while she played. She'd caught him shaking his head at her actions, as if what she was doing was wrong, but he'd continued to play with the robots._

_Then...finally, he'd crawled over to her, gave a little clucking sound with his tongue, took the smaller of the three dolls and put him in the corner, facing the wall. Then he took the two bigger dolls, a boy and a girl, stuck them in the play car and rolled them away. Satisfied, he'd gotten to his feet, put his hand on her cheek, shook his head sadly and went back to his transformers._

_The incident said more about the boy than anything else. Now she continued to watch him play even as she continued to make notes. She needed to somehow unlock the meaning behind his actions with the three dolls. If she did - she could get him to talk again. She was a professional and had seen the aftermath of terrible things done to children. Truly terrible things - but she'd never seen a child react in quite this way. For a moment, she felt tears threatened, something she hadn't experienced since her early days. A small chime sounded, signifying that her time with Blair was up._

_She rose, smoothing her dress as she did, and said gently, "Blair, I'm going to get your mother because I'm betting you're starved. Okay?"_

_He glanced up and, surprised, nevertheless nodded before going back to playing._

_Sighing, Karen walked out and into the waiting room. "Naomi?"_

_Naomi looked up from the magazine, hurriedly closed it and joined Karen in the main office. "Is he all right? Can you help him?"_

_Instead of taking her own chair behind the desk, she sat in the seat next to Naomi. "There's no doubt that damage has been done - but I did learn a few things and I think that, eventually, we can both work to help him._

_"Naomi, you were right when you stated that he was very self-possessed. He is. And gentle. I have soldiers, pop-guns, cowboys and Indians, robots, transformers, all manner of toys." She leaned forward. "Now, most boys, no matter what their problem when they come to see me, will almost always play some type of war game. Some of these boys have been victims of abuse and the more violent the abuse, the more violent their games._

_"But Blair's proven to be an exception. Yes, he played with the transformers, but as if they were all his friends. At one point, it was clear he was imagining an intergalactic war," she grinned, "so he used all the transformers to ward off the imaginary evil-doers. That was very telling about his nature and, more importantly, his resiliency. Later, I joined him and played with some dolls. A male, female and a small, baby boy doll. That got his attention and he began to watch, albeit, covertly. He finally came over and gently taught me how to play correctly with them."_

_Naomi leaned in for this, her head tilted, as she asked, "Play correctly?"_

_"Yes. He put the small boy in a corner, facing the wall, then put the father and mother in the toy car and rolled them away."_

_Naomi mulled this over, trying to puzzle it out, to put it together with what she'd been noticing and the light bulb went on. "He's punishing himself."_

_"It's not quite that easy, Naomi, but yes, in a way, that's what's happening. However, it's more - ingrained - than that. I don't know what kind of verbal abuse, along with the physical, that Mickey heaped on Blair...but I can tell you that he did - and that's what we're really dealing with - more even than the physical pain. Words hurt children far more than we adults can imagine. They're potent weapons and, when used to their best or worst effect, can alter a child forever. But as I said, I saw a sweetness there, a generosity that says there's great hope. I think he'll talk, but you need to be prepared that it may take some time."_

_"Time I have, Karen. Time I have."_

_"Good. Right now, I think it's important that you go to him, take him out, have lunch together, and work at being a mother and son for awhile. Reassure him that you're not going anywhere. We'll get together again next week, same time, all right?"_

_Naomi, feeling hope for the first time since leaving San Francisco, nodded and got to her feet. "Thank you, Karen, thank you."_

_***_

_For the next three weeks, Blair continued to try to be perfect. It was almost Thanksgiving, he still wasn't in school, but when mommy went to work, Collie came over and they played, read, and chased his ball. He'd been to her house twice and she really did have a fish named Sylvester. He really liked her - a lot._

_Every week he visited Doctor Karen and played with the toys - and every week she tried to play with the same three dolls - and every week she did it wrong and he'd have to show her the right way. Until yesterday. Yesterday, she did something different and he was still puzzling over it._

_He'd tried once again to put the bad little boy in the corner where he belonged, but this time, Doctor Karen took the man doll out of the car and placed him in the corner! Then took the little boy doll and put him in the car with the mommy doll. Blair had been thoroughly confused because it just wasn't right. He'd looked back and forth between the pretend bad daddy and the mommy and little boy - then watched as Doctor Karen pushed the car far, far away from the bad daddy. He remembered how he'd squatted down, bent his head and...then closed his eyes._

_After several minutes, he'd opened them, got on his hands and knees, crawled cautiously over to the car, afraid Doctor Karen might stop him and, when she hadn't, he'd put the little boy's arm around the mommy._

_Today, he, mommy and Collie had gone to the same park where they'd met and had hot dogs. He'd played on the swings and his mommy and Collie had pushed him higher and higher; higher than he'd ever gone before and he'd actually squealed in delight._

_Now he was in bed and for the first time, he actually thought Mickey would never come back and his mommy would never leave him...._

***

Jim stepped into the loft, quietly sliding the casement window shut behind him. Blair was sound asleep, Katie curled up in his arms. Jim smiled at the sight and felt more relaxed than he had in weeks.

Things were looking up, getting better, the memories finally slowing down. There was still no Naomi, no messages, but Blair was sleeping and life was good.

Maybe, tonight, he'd take Blair someplace special for dinner...just the two of them. Someplace romantic.

***

Blair woke with a start, almost dislodging Katie from her warm, cuddly perch on his shoulder. He gazed about him, reorienting himself and heard footsteps overhead. Ah. Jim.

He gave a quick look at his watch... shit, already late afternoon. He'd practically slept the day away and felt like shit. There was also some unease, as if memories had been trying to get through to him, dragging themselves up to the surface of his mind but stopped cold. It was almost frustrating. He didn't want them, but at the same time...they were tantalizing him. He picked Katie up, hauled himself off the couch, sat her back down, and watched as she just curled up again and went back to sleep. He smiled lovingly at the fur ball, then made his way to the bathroom.

This whole thing was getting out of hand. Last night, no problem. Today, a simple nap and wham, dreams he couldn't even remember...although, he had a feeling it had something to do with the phone message. Hadn't Naomi taken him to a doctor?

Okay, that was a stupid thing to ask. Of course she had. Hell, as he'd been growing up, he'd gone to several thanks to a period of time where he rarely spoke and, later, as he got older, panic attacks. There'd been psychologist after psychologist until eventually, at thirteen, he'd called a halt to it and Naomi, thank God, had listened. But he wasn't remembering those doctors. He'd run circles around them, often leaving them more confused than their patient.

Blair smiled in memory of those many and varied visits. The know-it-all doctors telling Naomi that he was borderline psychotic or manic-depressive or suffered from ADS, or even the one idiot who'd said he was autistic.

Yep, you have to love those shrinks.

But they weren't the ones bothering him...niggling at his mind, tickling him with flashes....

"Blair?"

He whirled to find Jim standing behind him in the bathroom. He hadn't even heard him come in. "Man, are you crazy? I'm way too young to have a heart attack!"

"You didn't even know I was here, did you?"

"Hey, give me a break, I just woke up. Still a little - blurry, you know?"

Jim slid his arms around Blair's waist and nuzzled his neck as he whispered, "Everything okay? You feeling all right?"

Blair closed his eyes, willing himself to calm down, to keep the strain out of his voice. "Fine. Did you get the balcony finished to your specifications?"

"Yep...at least until next weekend when I decide to undo everything I did this weekend."

Blair turned in Jim's arms and inclined his head to see Jim's face. "You really _are_ anal. You know that, don't you?"

"I've heard rumors, but to date, they're totally launsubstantiated."

"Phooey, I can prove every anal rumor out there."

"So a bribe would be required to keep you from spilling the beans? Like, dinner at...The Cellar?"

Blair pulled back, surprise written all over his face. "The Cellar? You? Good God, you've cracked."

"Hey, nothing's too good for my sex toy. Nothing."

"Yeah? So while you and the dildo live it up at the restaurant, what do I get?"

"McDonald's."

"You're so evil," Blair said with a grin. "I like that about you, man."

Jim leered at him. "If we tired out the dildo now...I could take _you_ instead."

"So what are we waiting for?"

***

Jim felt guilty monitoring Blair, but damn, he needed to know if he was okay and, earlier in the bathroom, he hadn't been, although he'd tried hard to hide that fact from him. Another dream with another memory resurfacing, maybe?

If so, he and Blair really needed to talk and there was no better time than now. He'd made reservations at The Cellar for seven-thirty, which left better than two hours to talk, to urge Blair to share with him.

At the moment, Blair was out walking Katie, but the second they got back, he and Sandburg were going to have a heart-to-heart.

***

The front door was pushed open and yipping heralded the arrival of Katie and her pet, Blair. They were both wet and cold, with Katie immediately shaking herself all over the living room and Blair following suit, long curls splashing moisture onto the floor.

Smiling, Jim watched from the bedroom and finally teased, "Hey, don't shake Cascade rain all over our fine floors, and yes, I mean you too, Katie!"

Blair looked up, smiled, and immediately stopped the hair shaking. As Jim walked down, Blair moved forward until he was close enough to do some damage - at which time he gave a good shake of his hair.

As water sprayed him, Jim held up his hands in protection and laughed, trying to grab Blair, but then Katie got into it and started shaking herself all over Jim's pants.

Laughing, Blair bent down and scratched Katie as he said, "Poor Jim. Just a dupe for Blair and Katie, eh, girl?"

The hard thumping of the puppy's tail told Blair that Katie did, indeed, agree - wholeheartedly.

For Jim's part, well, vengeance was definitely called for here. As soon as Blair straightened and Katie moved toward a warm spot on the couch, Jim made his move.

He jumped his partner.

One minute Blair was laughing and the next, he was on his back, sprawled over the rear of the couch with Jim for a blanket.

"Hey, you big oaf, get off! You're going to snap my spine!"

Jim rested his lips against Blair's ear and whispered, "So?"

"So, you break my back and where's the fun in that, huh? If you're going to do it, do it right."

Jim reached between their bodies and began to stroke Blair's crotch, feeling the growing hardness through his jeans. "Do what right, Rainboy?"

"Rainboy? _RAIN_ boy? Oh, man, your technique is really suffering.  
Rain...rain... Oh, God...."

Jim had unzipped Blair's jeans and, now that the stroking was more hands on, Blair was losing his ability to create a cohesive thought, let alone a sentence.

Chuckling, Jim murmured, "God, you're easy."

Arching into Jim's hand, Blair managed to gasp out, "Simon says...the same thing..."

"You little slut."

Going for indignant, Blair huffed out, "Hey, who are you calling - little?"

"You, Rainboy. But since your back - backside - are very important to me, I'll make a small concession." With that, Jim lifted Blair, turned him around, bent over the back of the couch and began to pull Blair's jeans and boxers down. He then lifted a handful of hair, pulled it away from Blair's neck and latched on... sucking and nipping, licking and kissing. He was hard, knew from Blair's scent that he was equally hard - but they had no lube. He paused in his actions, was just about to pull back when Blair reached back with his hand and shoved a tube at him.

"Huh...Chief?"

"Under the cushion - you know, just in case? I have the stuff hidden all over the place."

"Okay, it's official. I love you."

A couple of minutes later, with some rather energetic and athletic moves that resulted in preparing Blair, he latched on once again to that soft spot on Blair's neck and, just as he slid into his partner, he bit down.

"OhGod...."

Blair jerked up, his neck stretching out...hands gripping the couch hard as Jim began to move in and out. The heat in his groin traveled up - spread out, tingling and then burning...because Jim wasn't in far enough, close enough. Blair could feel Jim's breath, harsh on his neck, could hear the sounds that were escaping through clenched teeth - and still it wasn't enough. Blair needed more and needed harder, so much harder. He began to hiss out words, to entice and encourage and enflame....

The couch began to move, and he gripped harder, pulling it into him with his strength. Jim was reacting to Blair's urging, was allowing himself to go, certain in the knowledge that Blair was in total control. Jim latched onto Blair's neck again, biting hard and deep and the pain lanced through him. He was aware of the pain in every part of his body; his hands, shoulders, back, and ass, but he needed it, wanted it. Wanted the pain to obliterate everything; the memories, Mickey....

He was vaguely aware that Katie had began to growl deep in her throat... but all he wanted was more of what Jim was giving him: blissful oblivion as he lost himself.

***

It was the growling that finally penetrated, brought Jim back from the brink of a place he'd never been. He blinked the sweat from his eyes and the first thing he saw - was blood. It was trickling down Blair's neck to disappear under the flannel collar. He saw Blair's white knuckles, fingers clenched on the edge of the couch.

So shocked, he literally pulled out - too fast and hard - to stumble back, hands in front of him as if to ward off what he was seeing.

"No, no, no...."

Blair gasped in pain even as Jim whispered, "Dear God, what have I done?"

His world, the present - the here and now - crashed in around Blair. He could feel his own pain but it was nothing compared to what he was hearing in Jim's voice. This wasn't about what Jim had done - but what he'd done to Jim.

Ashamed, he twisted stiffly to look up at Jim. "Not you, man...it was me. My fault. I wanted it, urged you on...."

He felt his energy, the little strength he had left, leave him, causing him to drop to his knees. Katie scooted over to him, head down, ears back. She sniffed and then tried to crawl onto his lap, but he stopped her as he lifted his face to Jim, who still stood several feet away, frozen in place, horror etched across his features.

Blair thought he would cry at seeing Jim like this, knowing that he'd done it to him. He reached and pleaded, "Forgive me, please? I'm so sorry, so very sorry...."

His litany continued, unabated, but it got through to Jim who finally came back to himself. He looked down at his partner and emotions rushed up, threatening to drown him. He hurried to Blair's side, knelt in front of him and enfolded him into his arms. "Dear God. Blair."

He had only the vaguest notion of what had just happened and that scared him, scared him so badly that he didn't want to move or let go. He wanted to stay just like this, holding Blair, protecting....

"It's okay, Chief, everything's all right, I swear it."

They remained on the floor, half dressed, arms entwined, legs wrapped around each other, giving and receiving comfort, taking warmth from each other as they tried to come to terms with what had just happened.

***

Jim felt his legs cramping and knew they had to move, but damn it, Blair was still shaking and mumbling, his words nothing more than a jumble even to a Sentinel. But finally, he got them up and over to the couch, both on wobbly legs.

After several minutes - time needed to restore a more nature breathing and heart beat, Jim finally asked, "Tell me what happened."

"Don't know, really. I just kind of...sort of needed to feel whatever I could. Damn, I'm so confused, man."

"You had another memory flash today, didn't you?"

"Not exactly. More like a fringe of memory but too far out of reach to latch on or understand."

"All right...can you tell me what happened just before you fell asleep? Maybe we can piece this together."

"I'm not sure...I do know that I was just drifting off, feeling good...and the phone rang. It was that dentist you consulted - and that's when I felt a kind of déjà vu." He turned in Jim's arms. "Damn, I forgot to tell you about the dentist, didn't I? That he called about having the dental records?"

Jim was flabbergasted. One minute, Blair sounded distant and even a bit afraid, and definitely full of guilt, and the next, talking about the dental records, he sounded like his old self, as it nothing had just happened.

Rubbing his hand down Blair's arm, he said, "We'll take care of the dentist later. Right now, we need to talk. Can you tell me anything else? Anything to explain why you needed...why what happened a few minutes ago - happened?"

Blair held everything in, the panic, the fear, the absolute terror, and willed his heart to slow, his body to calm - because half-truths were required and Jim was a sentinel. He pulled slightly away and tested his success at willing his body into compliance as he faced the man, eyes locking. "I think, but I'm not sure, that I lost control. It was as if I could punish myself. I didn't realize that I was using you to do it. I'm really sorry, man. But I'm not hurt. Not really. And in a way, this is like a breakthrough. I've brought it out into the open, you know? The past exhibited itself in the present so maybe this is going to be okay now."

Jim searched Blair's face, a face he knew better than his own, and found only sincerity. Uncertain where to go next, he was about to ask another question when Blair stopped him.

"I was using you, Jim, using words and our bodies to take me somewhere in order to hurt. It was wrong and so not me. It was also unfair to you - to rob you of your control like that."

Jim winced at that last phrase, but said, "No, there's nothing to apologize for. We'll get through this."

He untangled himself from Blair, got to his feet and held out a hand. "Let's get cleaned up and then give Katie, who looks like she needs some serious hugging, all the attention she deserves. We can still make the reservation at The Cellar. Okay?"

Blair allowed Jim to pull him up, then he bent and scooped up the puppy, burying his face in her soft fur. "Do you think we could skip dinner? Maybe have pizza in? I could put together some kind of salad, too."

Jim hid his disappointment that he was being robbed of the ability to lavish some attention on Sandburg, but he admitted that staying in might be better. They were both wiped. "Sure. Pizza sounds great. I'll order while you get the first shower, deal?"

"Deal." Blair put Katie down and headed to the bathroom and a hot shower. Jim watched, confused and uneasy. So much happening and he couldn't seem to get a handle on it, to get ahead of it. Tonight, shit, he could have really hurt Blair, what with the way he'd been so focused on the the need and Blair's....

Jim brought himself up sharply.

He'd been so focused on Blair's — voice. Jim concentrated, using his memory sense, letting his mind reel back...and the voice was there, words urging him on, urging him to....

...to hurt Blair. To punish him.

It was one thing to hear it from Blair in the form of an apologetic explanation - it was altogether different to remember for himself. Jim felt his knees weaken and grabbed onto the back of the couch for support before making his way to the other side where he let his body fall back into the cushions.

_"...as if I could punish myself..."_

Being hurt during lovemaking was equal to being punished for Blair? And if so, what was making Blair feel that he'd done something so horrible that it even needed punishment? Jim knew damn well that whatever the act was, it had nothing to do with Blair the child - it wasn't some sin Blair thought he'd committed when he was five.

Great. Jim had tons of questions but damn few answers.

*****

The water was hot, fiery hot, but still Blair shivered. He knew he'd finally crossed the line. Finally done something that could end what he had with Jim, that could make Jim leave. He committed an unforgivable sin - he'd hurt Jim in order to hurt himself. He'd used his own knowledge of Jim to control him.

He'd used Jim horribly.

Suddenly words from long ago - and uttered by Mickey - echoed within the shower stall....

_"I have to do this, Blair, for your own good. You must learn or your mother and I will leave."_

Words spoken with icy coldness but Mickey's expression one of anger as he brought his hand down again and again, but never an open hand - no, Mickey always used something to strike him with....

**No!** Enough was enough.

Blair could not allow Mickey to have this kind of control. The man was fucking dead.

He fumbled for the shower controls, jerked them off, grabbed his towel and stepped out. He dried himself roughly, stubbornly refusing to allow Mickey back into his mind. This had to end. Period.

When he faced the mirror, he noticed the bite mark and, in an effort to keep Jim from focusing on it, he took down the first aid ointment and applied it liberally, then applied one of the flesh-colored bandages. Satisfied, he decided a turtleneck would help, so he slipped into his robe and headed upstairs to change into a black, turtleneck sweater and jeans.

***

Their dinner was quietly eaten in front of the television while watching the news, Katie, finally relaxed enough to sleep between them.

The screen flickered but neither man was really watching, each lost in their own thoughts. At ten, Jim turned off the set and asked, "How 'bout we take her out together?"

Nodding, Blair got up and, after putting her in her halter and leash, they headed out.

***

Jim opened the door and let Katie precede him inside. She scurried in, leash dragging behind her, happy and proud that she'd done her deed outside. Blair praised her and, while Jim made them coffee, he took a seat on the couch.

"Here you go," Jim said a couple of minutes later.

Smiling, Blair took the offered mug and Jim joined him on the couch. They chatted idly, Jim fully aware that they were both afraid of discussing anything darker or more complicated than the upcoming CPD versus the CFD Bowling Tournament. By eleven, both men silently agreed to head upstairs to bed.

***

Blair waited...and when he was certain Jim was asleep, he repeated his foray into his old room, into the drawer and the pill bottle. This time, he popped two.

***

Collie still didn't understand why Naomi was here. She understood how out of contact Naomi had been in the last several months, but why come to Portland?  
Naomi had let the taxi go ages ago once she'd realized that her visit wouldn't be the quick hug, retrieval and good-bye she'd originally planned. Now Collie watched as she waited on hold with the airline.

That's when Collie made up her mind.

She walked over to the phone, gently took the receiver from Naomi's very surprised hands and said, "Stay the night, honey. We have a lot more to talk about and you still haven't really told me why you're here."

Naomi almost laughed at the absurdity of it. She'd come for something and had yet to mention it. "Just goes to show you how senile I'm becoming. I came so that I could look through the boxes I left with you when Blair and I moved to Cascade. There's something I need to take with me, to have when I see Blair and, while I'd love nothing more than spending time with you - I need to see him as soon as possible."

Collie's mind was ticking a mile a minute and even as she mentally placed where the stored boxes might be, she made a few plans of her own. If she couldn't talk Naomi into staying one night...then she'd go to Cascade with her. Ben was on a business trip and not due back for three more days...so why the hell not?

Besides, she had the distinct feeling that both Naomi and Blair would need her.

"Fine. Go ahead and call the airline back, but make _two_ reservations. I'm going with you."

Smiling, Naomi picked up the phone again.

***

The two women sat on the floor of the attic, several boxes opened, the contents spread out around them. There were baby clothes, beloved toys, more pictures and travel mementos; all the items Naomi had gathered over the years. Unfortunately, the one item she needed was nowhere to be found.

Collie scratched her head, thinking it would be easier if she knew what the hell they were looking for, but Naomi just kept saying she'd know it when she saw it. Now Collie tried to place every item Naomi and Blair had left behind...and then remembered. Blair's own box, the one she'd labeled for him all those years ago....

***

The Past -

_Anxious blue eyes looked up at her, almost willing her to convince him. Collie smiled, took her index finger and made an V across her heart as she said, "Blair, I promise. This box will be here for you when you get back. I won't even move it. It stays right here. Okay?"_

_He sighed heavily, with all the dramatics of a seven-year old who had to be patient with adults. "'Kay, but Deva, well, he doesn't like...I mean...."_

_Blair stopped, unable to truly explain. After all, to everyone else, Deva was just a stuffed animal. "I just want him safe, okay, Auntie Collie? And yes, of course I know he can't stay in the middle of the hall, silly."_

_Smiling, she said, "I'll keep him very safe. I promise."_

_This was the hardest part for Blair. He, his mom and her newest boyfriend, David, were going to Virginia for six months, and David didn't think boys Blair's age should still have stuffed animals. Well, heck, neither did Blair, but Deva was - well, Deva. He gazed lovingly down at his best friend, knowing that Collie would understand. With a quick look behind him to make sure that David wasn't paying attention, Blair dropped a kiss on top of the furry and very worn head, then bit his lip. He was not going to cry._

_Seven-year old boys didn't do that either._

_Collie could see what this was costing the boy she considered a son, and she just wanted to shake Naomi. Twenty-four years old and still dependent on men for her own self worth, never realizing until too late how it could affect her son. She lifted the cat from suddenly stiff arms and laid it carefully on the quilt that was folded on top of the box. She took the black packing marker and, with a flourish, wrote on the side:_

_** BLAIR'S BOX - DON'T TOUCH ON PENALTY OF DEATH! AND DON'T FEED THE ANIMALS! ** _

_Blair grinned - his Aunt Collie really was terrific. He watched her tape it up and then they both carried it into the small room that was his when he slept over or stayed while his mother was on one of her trips._

_Collie stopped a moment, pursed her lips in concentration as she pondered the best place to put the precious box and finally asked, "The closet?"_

_**"No!"** he yelled, panic clear in his voice. The box dropped from his hands as he blinked up at her, his head shaking back and forth. She frowned, worried, because she suspected the source of this outburst._

_"Ok-ay, how 'bout the far corner, between the bed and the wall?"_

_Blair was staring at the closet, eyes wide, and it was with great effort that he turned to meet Collie's gaze and agree to the new suggestion. He looked at the corner and breathed a sigh of relief because it was perfect. "Yes, please."_

_Collie didn't miss the sudden politeness, a sure sign that he was back in Mickey mode. She'd noted this tendency to go 'good' as she called it if anything reminded him of what he went through in San Francisco. He'd suddenly become very quiet and polite, doing anything you asked of him. But he would never talk about it. And yes, she'd asked._

_She'd asked six months after he'd come into her lonely life - the first time Naomi had gone on one of her first trips away leaving Blair with her._

_They'd been fixing dinner and she'd given him both their glasses to place on the table but he'd tripped and dropped one, breaking it in process. She'd never forget, as long as she lived, his expression of horror. It still had the power to frighten her. At the time, she'd done her best to smooth it over by ruffling his hair and thanking him, saying how she'd always hated that Flintstone Jelly glass anyway. He'd smiled tremulously and, later, as they'd watched television, she'd somehow brought up enough courage to bring it up to ask him why he'd acted so strangely just because he'd dropped a glass._

_He'd gone very still at her question and, after about thirty seconds, jumped to his feet, grabbed Deva and excused himself after kissing her on the cheek and headed off to bed. The next morning, it had been as if nothing had ever happened._

_She'd never asked again._

Now she jumped up, grabbed Naomi and said, "I know exactly where it is! Come on."

She gave Naomi's hand a tug, but Naomi just gazed up at her questioningly. "You know where what is?"

"Deva, silly. That's what you came for, isn't it? To take Deva back to Blair?"

Naomi smiled in wonder at her friend as she nodded enthusiastically, "Yes, that's precisely what I came back for. Where is it?"

For an answer, Collie tugged again and this time Naomi rose and, together they went downstairs and into the master bedroom. Collie went over to the large, walk-in closet, rummaged around and finally stepped out with a box in her arms.

"This is it. When we moved, I brought this in here myself. I'm not sure why, except that I promised him, you know? That I would take care of it." She set it down. "How could I have forgotten?"

Excitedly, they tore at the box, ripping off the moving tape and finally throwing the lid onto the floor. And there - on top, right where Blair had set him - was Deva.

Slowly, almost reverently, Naomi lifted the old, scruffy cat and stared into its eyes. She ruffled the still soft fur and even scratched it behind an ear.  
"I told Blair that I could hear Deva purr, but of course, he knew I couldn't. I'd watch his face as he'd sit on the living room floor and watch television, this damn cat in his lap. He'd groom it and then bend down, put his ear to its chest and smile this wonderful, beautiful smile as he'd say, 'you like this, don't you? you're purring.' And then he'd keep brushing...."

"I know," Collie said, remembering. "During your first trip away, Blair was at the kitchen table, slurping soup. He had Deva on the table and he was telling him, 'No, you can't have any soup, it's bad for jaguars, but there's some vanilla ice cream for dessert, 'kay?' Then he looked up at me, smiled this conspiratorial smile and asked me if Deva could have hot fudge sauce on the ice cream, not that he wanted any, but it was for Deva. Well, of course, I gave him some and Blair got this look and smiled this angel smile and said, 'He's purring, can you hear him?', which of course, I couldn't."

"Collie, do you suppose Deva was Blair's version of an invisible friend?"

Collie thought about that, considered about how different Blair had been after receiving the cat, and finally shook her head. "No. But I'll tell you what Deva was: Blair's savior, plain and simple."

Savior. Friend. Protector.

Yes, Naomi realized. That was everything Deva had been. Now she was glad she'd listened to that inner voice of hers and given in to Blair's pleas to get him a black jaguar....

***

The Past -

_Naomi put the book down, yawned and decided she'd had enough of Barbara Cartland to last a lifetime. She was just about to turn off the light when a small voice caught her attention._

_"mommy?"_

_Blair stood in the doorway wearing underwear and a white undershirt. He looked, hesitant and he was rubbing his eyes, face still flushed from sleep._

_"Honey, what's wrong? Can't sleep?"_

_He shook tousled curls, gave his leg a little scratch, focused on the floor and whispered, "can i have something?"_

_She patted the bed, inviting him to join her, but he didn't move. Just waited.  
"Blair, if I can get it, yes. What do you need?"_

_It was so strange, Blair asking for something. He just didn't do that. He'd look and long for, but never asked._

_"don't need it, but have to have it. just do. a black jaguar. furry, stuffed, this," he stretched out his hands to indicate something about two feet long, "big. and he needs me and says he'll pro-tekt me."_

_She watched him, the way he was holding his body, so - stiff and wary - all because he wanted a stuffed jaguar. It was so little to ask, how could she say no to him? Nodding, she said, "I'll look tomorrow, okay? While you're in school."_

_He glanced up, surprise on his face, eyes glittering with hope. "honest?" When she nodded again, he said very seriously, "and mommy, it has to be a jaguar, you see?" His voice got all excited. "not a panther or a leopard, but a j-a-g-u-w-a-r, okay?"_

_Naomi nodded solemnly, "Right, a jaguar. Got it." She patted the bed again.  
"Want to sleep with me tonight?"_

_He glanced backward, then at her hand patting the bed again, gave that shy, pleased little smile of his, the one that said, 'can I really?' and when she gave an encouraging nod, ran for the bed, jumped up and crawled over to her. He was growling, pretending to be a jungle cat and she scooted back, pretending to be afraid. "Oh, no, Mr. Cat please don't eat me!"_

_He wiggled his butt, growled again and...pounced...straight into her arms._

_She hugged him hard and he brushed his head against her cheek while sounding just like a kitten purring. Then he looked up and purred, "kitty needs hot cho-cooo-late."_

_"Oh, mister, you are good. Okay, you win, two cups of hot chocolate, coming right up. Let's go, Mr. Cat."_

_***_

_The next morning, after dropping Blair off at Kindergarten, she started her search for the jaguar. She must have hit every toy store in town and an hour before she was due to pick Blair up at school, she was about to give up. Oh, she'd found plenty of tigers, lions and even spotted leopards, but no jaguars. Then she remembered a store Collie had told her about not long after they'd met. It was a specialty shop specializing in jungle décor, rain forest souvenirs (with portions of the profit going to preserve them) and even a few jungle-themed toys. It was located on Fifth and called, appropriately enough, The Rainforest Experience. And it was on the way to Blair's school._

_***_

_Naomi walked into The Rainforest Experience and there he sat, on the counter, a sign around his neck announcing that he was for sale. She lifted the label, praying it would be specific, that it would tell her she was looking at a jaguar - and she almost laughed out loud when she read, "I am a South American Jaguar, not to be confused with a panther or a leopard. Take me home."_

_It was twenty dollars and she happily forked over the money, already anticipating Blair's expression when she gave it to him._

_***_

_Naomi pulled up in front of the elementary School about 10 minutes before the bell. She'd placed the bag containing the cat in the trunk, the better to surprise her son. She didn't understand why this toy was so important to him, but the idea of protection was certainly understandable and she would do anything to ensure that he felt safe. That he was safe._

_The bell rang and, moments later, a sea of children poured out from the double doors. She craned her neck, trying to spot the dark red shirt and curly hair. Several parents were waiting on the sidewalk and Naomi joined them. The stares she received were nothing new so she ignored them. Her youth, long, flowing dress, dangling earrings and no make-up all served to stamp her as different. But for her, it was exhilarating. She was different...and so was her son._

_She finally spotted him just as he came through the doors. He paused on the top step, eyes scanning the sea of adult faces so she lifted an arm and waved at him. He spotted her and the smile on his face was so brilliant, she was sure it could light up a city. He hurried down the steps, eager and excited. In his hand he carried a large piece of white construction paper that he held behind him like a kite. As he ran, his hair flew and Naomi had this ridiculous urge to freeze the moment, to capture it for all time. The joy on Blair's face, his huge smile, all for her._

_"mommy, mommy, look. look what i did." He held up the large paper in front of her. "jungle, mommy, see? and that's my cat."_

_The picture was indeed a painting of a jungle. Tons of green trees, snips of blue representing the sky as it peeked through spreading limbs and, on the jungle floor, a black blur._

_"Oh, Blair, this is wonderful. Come on, let's get it home and hang it on the wall, okay?"_

_"yes, my wall," he replied, his face alight with mischief and knowing full well that his art always went on hers._

_"Oh, I don't know, I think there's a perfect spot over my dresser... yes, I'm thinking it would fit just fine."_

_Blair happily handed over his creation and then, before climbing into the car, he asked, "mommy, did you? did you find it?"_

_Naomi went into her act by frowning sadly. "Oh, honey, no. I looked in every toy store in this city and found lots of tigers, lions and cheetahs, but no jaguars. I'm sorry, sweetie."_

_The crestfallen look on his face would have been heartbreaking if she hadn't known what rested in the trunk._

_"but, mommy, deva said you would find him. he's waiting. can we go look now? again? it's 'portant."_

_"Deva?"_

_"my pro-tektor - my jaguar."_

_"Honey, it's awfully late and we're due at Collie's in thirty minutes, remember? It's her birthday so we'll have to look tomorrow."_

_His whole body slumped down, head lowering as he mumbled, "'kay. 'morrow."_

_Seeing his expression and body language, she simply couldn't make him wait another minute. "Honey, I left some groceries in the trunk and I think we'd better bring them up with us before they spoil. Will you help me?"_

_"sure," he answered dejectedly._

_They went around to the trunk where she unlocked it and, as it swung up, Blair spotted the lone bag with jungle trees and the words, Rainforest Experience printed in bold lettering._

_He looked up at her, hope just beginning to shine. "mommy?"_

_"Why, how did that get here? Where are all my groceries? This is very strang - but as long as it's here, maybe you'd better open it and see what it is."_

_She didn't need to encourage him, his little hand was already reaching in, grabbing and tearing and...pulling out the stuffed cat._

_"Deva!" Blair held the cat to his face, cuddling fiercely._

***

_The Present - Cascade_

The mists swirled around him, but instead of warm and safe, they were cold and frightening. He seemed to be trapped and knew he wasn't alone, that somewhere nearby, just out of sight, was some kind of danger - so he ran.

Blair woke feeling dazed. His eyes refused to focus and the room seemed to be spinning. He shut his eyes again, tightly, and willed the room to steady.  
When he opened them again, it was to see the moon shining down from the skylight. He was awake thanks to another nightmare...but at least this time, he'd awakened before Jim. He was safe because Jim was still asleep, undisturbed.

Blair crawled out of bed, and groggily made his way down to his old room. The journey was slow, his head aching, his hands trying to steady himself by flattening against the wall, but his vision was poor and everything just swam across his eyes. Just what he needed - a migraine.

Eventually, he made it into the room and, after fumbling for what seemed like hours, found the bottle and shook out some more pills. He knew he was seeing everything wrong, too many doors, too many bottles, too many pills, which meant that he probably had enough, maybe two, so he could not only get back to sleep, but stop the migraine mid-pain.

He stumbled into the bathroom and, without turning on the light, turned on the faucet. He popped the pills into his mouth and then bent down and drank directly from the faucet.

Unaware that he'd carried the bottle into the bathroom with him, he never saw it fall to the floor.

As he walked out into the living room, he felt disconnected somehow - as if this place wasn't his, like this home wasn't his... and maybe that was true. A person could only be so much trouble before even the most kindhearted individual got weary. He stood, swaying, half way between the bathroom and the stairs, thinking he'd probably finally gotten to the heavy part. Too heavy for Jim, too heavy for anyone. Certainly too heavy for his mother....

But he couldn't really blame Naomi - she'd only been a child herself and hadn't wanted a baby in the first place. But kudos to her - she'd had him anyway.

Damn, was he a burden at the station too? Probably. His mother was right, he wasn't cut out to be a cop. Wasn't cut out to be anything but heavy.

He wasn't going to make it upstairs but that was all right - the couch looked comfortable. He staggered over and collapsed. He had just enough energy left to pull a pillow around and plop his head down.

Heavy, way too heavy. Poor Jim. Those were his last thoughts as he drifted off....

***

After discovering that any late flight would be impossible, Collie convinced Naomi that staying the night was now the best course of action and they could fly out early tomorrow, refreshed and ready.

She settled Naomi in the guest room, both having downed an entire giant pizza and several glasses of wine. They'd joked, relived the good old days and then Collie had shared her adventures since they'd parted. Told her how she'd met her husband and shared their many travels. Naomi filled her in on her recent dates and her months at the mission.

Now Collie moved throughout the house, locking up, turning off lights and ending up in front of her big picture window, gazing out across her lawn.

Her memories of the time spent with Blair and Naomi were the sharpest, the clearest, and the best of her life. She was now forty-seven and children weren't likely to be a part of her future - which made Blair the closet thing to her own as it was possible to be. And she was worried - worried what all these months without Naomi might have done to him - months of doubt with his world crashing around him and no mother to offer answers.

She also couldn't help wondering how he'd seem to them after all he'd been through.

Shivering, she closed the drapes and went to bed.

***

Jim reached out for Blair but came up empty. He felt the spot where Blair should be, but his side of the bed was not only cold, but there was no residual heat. He sat up, cocked his head and listened.

There he was. But...Blair's breathing and heartbeat were sluggish and slow. He was downstairs, on the couch. Jim threw off the covers and ran down.

Blair was lying on his stomach, one arm dangling down, fingers just skimming the floor. Jim was on his knees instantly, hand to Blair's neck, listening and feeling as fear spread out, nearly choking him. Blair's skin was so cold. Jim carefully turned him over, lifted one eyelid and didn't like what he found. If he didn't know better - he'd think drug overdose, but that was impossible - wasn't it?

Jim got to his feet, ran into the bathroom, hit the light, and there, staring up at him from the middle of the floor, a pill bottle...sleeping pills.

Thirty seconds later, he was calling nine-eleven.

While waiting for the ambulance, he got Blair up and walking - even though that meant dragging him because Blair was totally unresponsive.

He could hear the sirens - then the firemen and paramedics entering the building, taking the stairs and elevator and, finally, the pounding boots as they approached the door. Still holding Blair, he got the door open and then his loft was full of men in blue shirts and coveralls held up by suspenders. They took Blair from him and laid him on the floor.

Jim immediately got the bottle of pills and, as they worked on his partner, said, "There were twenty in the bottle - now there only nine. I found it on the floor in the bathroom."

He answered their questions; how old was Blair, what medications, was he suffering from depression, how had he seemed earlier...and they went on and he answered, but he was very nearly paralyzed with fear, refusing to accept that Blair would try to kill himself.

Only eleven pills missing... the bottle prescribed quite a while ago... but still, he knew an overdose when he saw one.

He'd had the presence of mind to call Simon, incoherently, but still. He sat down, out of the way, and it was the hardest thing he'd ever done. Memories of the fountain flooded his mind, but this was different. So different. He leaned forward and rested his head in his hands, body shaking, knowing Blair wouldn't voluntarily leave him; he wouldn't. Couldn't. Not Blair.

Hate. Cold, deep and penetrating.

May Michael Goddard roast in hell... and Naomi, god damn it, if she... if Blair... he'd kill her. He'd - kill - her.

"Jesus, Jim. Is he okay?"

Jim lifted his head at Simon's voice, but he couldn't really focus, so he just stared.

"Jim? Are you all right? Come on, speak to me...."

"Pills, he took pills."

Simon pulled out another chair and sat down. Pills? Blair? He gripped Jim's arm. "What exactly do you mean when you say pills?"

"Sleeping pills. Don't know how many, but eleven were missing...nine left in the bottle."

Simon considered his friend, then put squeezed his arm again - harder. "Jim, think man. People don't try to kill themselves by taking _some_ of the pills. They swallow the whole bottle. You're a detective, you know that. But when someone is confused, they can certainly take too many - by accident, not design. And if all that weren't enough to convince you, Blair doesn't use stuff like that...not regularly. It was an accident, I'd stake my life on it."

Jim blinked, narrowed his eyes, and nodded, "Of course, you're right...that's it, he was confused...didn't realize, right?"

Before Simon could respond, someone called out, "Detective Ellison, we've stabilized him and we're transporting to Cascade General. I assume you want to ride with him?"

The paramedic, a smart one, assumed right.

***

Jim sat by Blair's bedside, his right hand clutching Blair's as if it were a lifeline from the Titanic. Blair was asleep, deeply but naturally - and Jim found that he simply couldn't take his eyes off of him. He was afraid to. If he slept, left, or even looked around the room, looked anywhere but at Blair, he was convinced Blair would simply disappear.

Simon had left a few minutes ago, off on a coffee hunt, having decided to stay even though Blair was out of the woods. His fear was that while Blair was going to be all right - Jim wasn't.

The doctor had been unable to tell them much, other than they had pumped Blair's stomach and that, finally, Blair had slipped from a drug-induced state to a natural sleep.

Which left Jim praying. Praying that Simon was right, that Blair would never choose to leave Jim - or this world - in such a manner. Unfortunately, with Simon temporarily gone, Jim was left alone with his thoughts. How had he missed this? He tried to look back, to use his memory sense to view the last several days, to diagnose Blair's behavior, the nightmares and their few, all too brief discussions. He thought about the five year old Blair of several months ago and all that he'd managed to learn of the child he'd been given the opportunity to know.

And that's where he ran into a block wall.

The child he'd taken care of had wounds, there'd been no doubt of that. But he'd also been generous, full of life and a natural curiosity combined with the same stubbornness that he exhibited as an adult. There'd also been the humor and immense capacity for love.

So why this horror now? Was it really Mickey and what he'd done to Blair? Or was there something more?

Jim reviewed the episode in the living room, the frantic sex, Blair's words, his urgings... and considered again that Blair had indeed been punishing himself. And yet...that simply didn't fit the man he knew.

Okay, so Mickey Goddard was an SOB. He'd repeatedly beaten a five-year-old boy, terrorized him and must have scared him into keeping quiet - and by now, yeah, one could assume he'd told him that his mother would leave him if she knew he was a bad boy...too much trouble...too heavy? She would leave.

And - she did, often. Jim's mind began to work on th puzzle, to pull and twist what few facts he knew and put them together with the Blair and Naomi he'd come to know....

So if Blair believed his mother would leave him if she knew he'd been bad - and she had in fact left him (although she'd always come back) - then how far a jump would it be to assume that somehow, in Blair's mind, if he caused too much trouble...Jim would leave?

So Blair let Jim punish him? Mickey would tell Blair, "You're bad, so you're punished and I won't tell your mother so she won't leave...."

But again, Naomi _had_ left - many times so how often had Blair been left to wonder if she'd come back? And each time she did return, what had his child's mind conjured up as the reason? Was there some kind of equation in Blair's mind? A conclusion?

He gazed down at Blair, his mind chewing over the facts, the inferences, the possible conclusions.

Blair was afraid. Afraid that Jim would leave him, because he was too much trouble. And there was nothing in Blair's past to suggest otherwise. Naomi had left. And no, Jim wouldn't waste time being insulted by the fact that Blair could believe such a thing of him - that he'd believe Jim would leave during the bad times - right now, Blair wasn't himself - he was influenced by the past, much of which he didn't thoroughly understand.

That was the key, Jim decided. The grown-up, intelligent Blair hadn't yet reconciled his own common sense with the child he'd been - and Jim suspected that without Naomi - Blair might never be able to - might never find the peace he deserved.

***

Naomi fumbled in her purse, pulled out the spare key Blair had given her and unlocked the door. She and Collie had arrived in Cascade two hours ago and, after renting a car and trying to reach Blair by phone, had finally just driven over.

Now, as she swung the door open and stepped inside, she stopped dead.

Paramedics, when trying to save a life and transport as quickly as possible, tend to leave behind the trappings of their efforts and it was that mess that greeting Naomi and Collie.

Torn open wrappers, tubing, gloves, plastic syringe holders, all lay about the floor, right where they'd been tossed in the urgent moments of keeping a man breathing.

"Dear God."

Collie could only stare and join Naomi in prayer.

"Mrs. Sandburg?"

Both women whirled around to face a tall man standing just behind them. He stepped forward and said, "I'm Joel Taggart, remember? I work with Jim and Blair at the station?"

Naomi breathed a sigh of relief because yes, she recognized him. "Please, can you tell me what happened here?" She waved an arm to indicate the mess.

"I'm so sorry, Mrs. Sandburg. I came by to pick up some things and to clean up...uh, there's been an accident - it's Blair. He's at Cascade General." He looked from one woman to the other. "I'd be happy to take you back with me?"

"Yes, please," Naomi whispered.

***

Blair heard Jim's voice, but felt so good...so warm and sleepy...but damn, Jim was persistent. "Jeesh, let a guy sleep, will you?" His voice came out raspy thanks to a sore throat.

"Come on, Chief, open those baby blues for me."

"Open-schmopen, shut up and let me sleep," he rasped out.

"Blair, you're at Cascade General Hospital."

Blue eyes flew open and Blair gazed hurriedly around the room, took in the white walls, the equipment, the heart monitor, the IV...and his worried partner. "Shit, what happened? What did I miss?"

Jim leaned forward and gently pushed some hair out of Blair's face, letting his finger trail down the cheek before resting his hand over Blair's. "You...took some pills to sleep, right?"

Blair blinked, then looked down at his feet, shame written all over his face. "I - yes, how did you know?"

"How many?"

Blair frowned, confused by the question. "How many what?"

"Pills, Sandburg. How many do you think you took?"

"Two...maybe three. I'm sure I took two after you went to sleep but then I woke up, didn't want another nightmare, didn't want to disturb you, so I think...yeah, I went down...took maybe one or two more...I think...."

His voice trailed off as comprehension dawned. "Shit. You think I took...that I would...my God. I didn't, Jim, I swear it!" His voice rose with panic as he started waving his hands about in order to punctuate his words. "God, I didn't, did I?" he finally asked, eyes wide with shock.

"There were only nine pills in the bottle, Chief."

Those words, strung together, spoken like a death sentence, hung over Blair like a sword and, at that moment, Blair gave up. This was too much. He could feel his face flushing hotly, knew his eyes were tearing up, bit down hard on his bottom lip, and damn, if he didn't feel five years old all over again.

He turned his head away, chest hurting from the heaviness. He had nothing more to say - to anyone.

"Blair, the bottle had twenty pills. Had you taken any before?" When there was no answer, he repeated, "Blair? Come on, Chief, answer me. Just tell me...."

Jim wanted to shake Sandburg, shake him until...until what? Until he confessed that he'd tried to kill himself when he hadn't? Softening his voice, he tried again. "Please, Blair, talk to me. It was just an accident, right? You were just confused, didn't realize how many...."

But Blair wasn't moving, wasn't talking.

Jim was at a loss as to what to do next - but before he could ask anything else, Dr. Newman stepped in, having been alerted by the monitors that his patient was awake. He made questioning eye contact with Jim, who shook his head.

"Well, Blair, glad to see you're awake. How do you feel?"

Blair didn't answer - didn't even glance up.

"Son, can you tell me how you feel."

Nothing.

Dr. Newman frowned, puzzled by this strange behavior, and tried again.  
"Blair, you took an overdose of sleeping pills. We pumped out your stomach so your throat is probably a bit sore. You're a cop, you know the drill. I don't think you deliberately took too many...but I need to hear it from you."

Slowly, Blair closed his eyes, and shook his head.

"You didn't deliberately take too many pills?"

Again, Blair shook his head.

"So it was just an accident? You were groggy, and didn't realize?"

Blair nodded.

Dr. Newman had been taking care of most of the Major Crimes crew for several years and he knew the two men before him rather well, but there was a dynamic here that he didn't understand and Blair clearly wasn't going to clarify - at least not yet. But he'd provided him with the answer he required for his report and Newman believed him - in spite of intuitively knowing something else was going on. Maybe he'd call Madeline in after all....

Patting Blair's shoulder, he said reassuringly, "Okay, that's all I need right now... you just rest and we'll talk later. I'll probably release you tomorrow morning."

Blair didn't respond and, since Jim looked as though he'd just been pulled out of a dryer, Newman indicated that Jim should follow him out.

Nodding, Jim said, "Chief, I'm going to talk with the doc for a few minutes, but I'll be right back, okay?"

Nothing.

Jim started to say more, but stopped, wearily stood and followed Newman out the door.

For Blair, left behind, it was like the end of one of those old movies where following the last scene, they actually spelled out, 'The End'.

When the doctor released him tomorrow, he didn't know where he'd go, only that he wouldn't go back to the loft. Couldn't go back. He knew that he'd finally pushed Jim to the edge and over. The proverbial last straw. No going back. So time to make it easy on everyone.

The weird thing was that Blair didn't usually fail. But there was always a first time, right? He'd tried. Tried hard to keep the past where it belonged: in the past. To keep it from intruding on his life with Jim, keep it from intruding on Jim. But he'd failed.

Blair kept his eyes closed tight against more memories.

***

The drive to the hospital was more nerve-wracking than anything Naomi could remember. She sat in the back seat, Collie next to her, holding her hand and listening as Joel told them her what he knew, which while not much, was  
enough to send tendrils of cold fear through her heart.

Some kind of apparent overdose. Blair.

Which was patently impossible. Not Blair. He didn't even use aspirin.

Now they were walking down the pale green corridors, the medicinal smell almost making her gag and, up ahead of them, Jim...pacing back and forth. He glanced up, spotted her, and stopped moving. He stared at her, his expression - unreadable.

But his suddenly clenched fists told Naomi a great deal. She let her hand slip from Collie's and walked up to the detective, chin up. But before she could say anything, Jim said, "He's not talking. He won't talk. Not a word."

The accusation in his voice was clear and she accepted it. "I'm sorry, Jim. I really am." It was all she could say, except, "Can I - see him?"

"You're his mother, contrary to popular belief." Jim stepped aside and indicated the room behind him.

She walked to the door, took a deep breath and stepped inside, closing the door softly behind her.

Inside, she moved no further, didn't even say his name, choosing instead to watch him.

He was on his side, facing away from the door - but she could see his right hand, fingers pulling little tufts of material from the blanket.

After two minutes she took a hesitant step in and quietly said his name. "Blair?"

His hand stilled and he turned over, frowning, eyes filled with confusion. But he didn't say anything.

She was beside him instantly, her hand pulling at his, hugging it to her breast as her tears fell. "Oh, honey, I'm so sorry, baby. Please forgive me, please forgive me."

Without realizing it, she sat down on the bed and lifted him into her arms. She stroked his hair as her words flowing over him, repeating and repeating...but still - he said nothing.

***

The sight of his mother, of the quiet tears she hadn't known she was shedding, was more than Blair could handle. His mind said run, hide, there was only hurt ahead, but he couldn't ignore her pain. So, like he had always done, he put himself aside, wrapped his arms around her and began to croon his own words of comfort.

"It's okay, mom, it's okay." But when his hand went to her cheek, so like the night all those years ago, Naomi was hit hard by a severe case of reality. Blair was doing it again...and this time, she wouldn't allow it. This time, it had to be different.

"No, Blair." She took his hand, pulled it gently away from her face, kissed his palm and added, "No, it's not okay. I've screwed up royally and it's time you understood a few things."

He seemed to shrink from within, and she could tell he was preparing himself for some god-awful truth that he'd been expecting for years. She thought she knew what that truth was - because this was her son and she was supposed to know him, know what made him tick. But of course, therein lay the problem she'd always refused to accept: she _didn't_ know - didn't have a clue. And she never listened - never really listened to him.

She gripped his hand and, taking a deep breath, said, "I think now that Mickey hurt you more than just that one time, but I didn't _know_. I didn't even suspect, not until I took you to see Doctor Karen - but I realize I _should_ have known, you see? I should have suspected but I was so young, Blair, so young. And yes, I know that's no excuse, I understand that. I also know I could never explain in a million years how much I wanted the kind of life my parents said I would never have. How much I wanted to give you a father after they said no man would marry me.

"Oh, god, Blair, honey, that's no excuse...I should have been a better parent, I should have been there for you, seen what that bastard was doing, stopped him...."

Her voice finally trailed off and she found she could no longer look at him, could no longer meet his confused gaze. How in the hell could she ever explain.

"Mom, he said you'd leave me if you knew how bad I'd been, so being a child, I believed that - so I kept quiet. I was good at hiding things, you know that, Mom."

His voice sounded odd. Odd enough that she was compelled to look back at him - and what she saw tore her apart - because his expression accepted that somehow, she'd leave - that a part of him still believed it.

"Dear God. Blair, please, understand, you've got to understand... you weren't bad, you were never bad."

He caught her look then and smiled, a sweet, knowing smile. "I know that, mom. I know that. For crying out loud, I'm thirty years old and I know spilling things can't make people leave. I _know_ that children and Mickey didn't mix. Or maybe it's closer to the truth that no child of yours could ever mix with Mickey. You think I don't know what motivated him? That I was in his way? It was as simple as that. He hated a small, insignificant five-year-old child because that child took you away from him."

At that last, Blair had torn his gaze from hers, concentrating instead on his hand, which had gone back to tearing up the blanket. Watching him, Naomi realized that a great secret had finally been disclosed, because of course, she _had_ left - and regularly. Even when she'd take him on her travels, she'd leave him. And in some small part of his mind - he'd blamed himself.

She thought back to the very first time - not long after he'd started talking again and had Deva. She remembered clearly....

***

The Past -

_God, this was so great. A retreat, and only two hours away - with peace, quiet and people like herself, young people who were free thinkers, caring people, all of them. And of course, Scott._

_Gretchen had been right, Naomi couldn't turn this trip down and she knew Collie would take care of Blair, she just knew it. Collie loved him dearly and would hate joining her on the retreat. She turned back towards her son, who was playing in the back yard, curls flying, laughter contagious. He had Deva up in the air, a red napkin tied around its neck, and he was twirling and whirling and giggling, face flushed with happiness._

_It felt so good to see him laugh again, to play so freely. He was back to being unreserved and so loving. God, she was lucky. She picked up the phone, dialed Collie and, when the other woman answered, Naomi made her plea and of course Collie said yes._

_A few minutes later, Blair ran into the house, all out of breath but excited, his words tumbling over each other in their joy at being heard. "mommy, did you see, did you? did you see deva flying? i made him fly, mommy, i did, i made him fly!"_

_She knelt down, arms outstretched and he ran pell-mell into them, giggling wildly, waving poor Deva about, the red napkin whipping around as he kept asking, "did you, mommy, did you see?"_

_Laughing, Naomi nodded. "Yes, honey, I saw. You did good and Deva flew high and free."_

_"i'm jimmy olson, i am! superman needs jimmy olson, he couldn't fly nearly as high without him, could he mommy? could he?"_

_Naomi hugged him fiercely and said, "No, no, Superman would never fly as high without Jimmy Olson. And Deva would never have made it so high without you. Now give mommy a big kiss."_

_His little arms wrapped around her neck and he gave her a big, loud, smooshy kiss on her cheek and they laughed together as she set him back down and got to her feet. "How do hamburgers sound for dinner?"_

_"yummmmmm."_

_Smiling, she got out the hamburger and started making the patties as she said, "Honey, how would you like to stay with Collie for a few days?"_

_Blair had climbed onto one of the kitchen chairs and was grooming Deva as she asked about staying with Collie. He looked up, eyes glowing. "could i mommy? could i stay over?"_

_"Yep, next week. I'm going on a little retreat and Collie said she'd love to have you camp out with her while I'm gone."_

_She was making the patties and didn't catch it right away, didn't catch how still he went or how his hands dropped away from Deva or how his eyes widened and his lips trembled. "you're going - away?"_

_"Yep. Just for a few days. It's like a special meeting in the mountains. They call it a retreat, where grown ups go and talk, take long walks, read and meditate."_

_"oh."_

_"So, you'll stay with Collie?"_

_"yes, mommy."_

_But she noticed that - the 'yes, mommy.' She turned around to look at him, found him staring at her, biting his lip. Puzzled, she took a step toward him and asked, "Honey, are you all right? Are you sure you want to stay with Collie? Maybe you'd prefer staying with Kyle instead?"_

_"no, mommy, i'll stay with aunt collie. i will. i'll be good."_

She should have put it together then. But there was even more proof...a week later when Collie had come to pick Blair up....

***

The Past -

_Collie had Blair in her arms as they stood next to the VW while Naomi put her luggage and sleeping bag inside. She'd over packed, as always. She had five bags for four days, but she really wanted to look good for Scott._

_She noticed Blair following every single bag as she'd loaded it into the car, his eyes going back and forth, back and forth as he chewed on his bottom lip again. When the car was loaded, she walked over to him, expecting him to hold out his arms so that she could hold him before she left, but he didn't. He just watched. Puzzled, she'd simply dropped a kiss on his nose, hugged both of them, and climbed behind the wheel of the van and, with a wave, drove off...._

Now, twenty-five years later, the expression on his face and the all knowing look - the acceptance in his eyes - she could see it now, could see that her little boy hadn't believed she'd come back and that somehow, it was his fault.

Naomi took his hand, the one still busy pulling at the blanket, and intertwined their fingers. "Blair, I never left _you_ , don't you see that? I needed to be places but I don't know why, except that I wasn't cut out for a normal life. I was, no, I still am, a gypsy. I thought you understood that - but can see now that you always thought I was leaving you, that maybe I wouldn't come back, and Mickey did that to you." She hugged him. "Blair, I love you so much, that's why I started taking you with me, taking you almost everywhere with me, because I wanted that life for you and wanted you with me."

He gave a shake of his head as he said, "But that day you came home...found Mickey trying to...you know. Anyway, I heard what Mickey said... about how I was conceived... and it's okay, I understand why you left, how you needed to get away from me. Oh, not me personally, but me, the child. The one thing keeping you from being a kid yourself. And it's okay, you were a teenager when you had me and I know it was too late to get an abortion - I understand all that.

"And don't worry, I'll work through this and it's _not_ your fault that I've pushed Jim away, it was bound to happen. I tried not to remember, but everyday something new seemed to crawl out of the woodwork and I've hurt him. So you should probably know - we're a couple now but not for long - at least not once I get out of here." He rubbed his face with his other hand. "He thinks, believes, that I tried to kill myself but I didn't, Mom, I swear...."

His words seemed to bombard her and, like a dam that had finally taken too much stress, she got up and stepped away. She couldn't believe Blair had heard those horrible words of Mickey's that night.

Blair saw her move away and his words slowed - and finally stopped.

The need to run was overwhelming again. He needed out of this room, needed not to look at his mother or to hear whatever words would come now, so he yanked the IV from his arm in a single, angry motion and was up and across the room in a flash. He tore open the small closet and, grateful to see his clothes, grabbed them. The tubing kept swinging and hitting him as he yanked on the jeans, ignoring the hospital gown. He took his jacket and pulled it on over the gown, stepped into the loafers and, even as Naomi started for him, he waved her off, pushed past her, threw open the door and hurled himself out...and directly into Jim's chest.

"No, Chief. You're not going anywhere."

Strong arms wound around him, immovable arms, intractable arms, holding tight, and Blair brought his head back then forward, hitting Jim hard, hearing Jim's gasp, but the arms just tightened.

"You're not going anywhere and neither am I. you haven't driven me away, you could never drive me away because I fucking love you, you fucking idiot. Instead, we're going to listen to your mother and get this crap out in the open once and for all, do you hear me?"

Blair relaxed his body, but it didn't fool Jim, who remained in place, arms just as a tight as he repeated, "I'm. Not. Going. Anywhere."

"Let go."

"No. I will never let you go. Do you understand what I'm saying? You could fall for some girl named Trixie and tell me you were moving out and I wouldn't let you go. You could tell me you were in love with some bruiser named Bruno and I wouldn't let you go. You could tell me you hated me, that I disgusted you, and I wouldn't let you out the door. You could use up all the hot water everyday for the rest of our lives, and I wouldn't leave and I wouldn't let you go."

For a moment, there was silence, but then Blair murmured into Jim's chest, " _Trixie_?"

"Bambi, Corinne, Toulouse, I don't care. You're my other half, I don't exist without you."

"But _Bruno_?!"

"Chief, I know you - and Bruno is right up your alley."

"Strange alley. What about Toulouse, for God's sake!"

Jim lowered his head so that his lips were next to Blair's ear and whispered, "Can we go back to your room now?" He felt Blair's head rub against him as he nodded and, together, they walked back inside.

Naomi watched as Jim gently took Blair's jacket, hung it up, helped Blair out of his jeans, tenderly pulled the hospital gown down and led him back to the bed. Jim got him in, then rang for the nurse as he took his hand and clamped it over Blair's arm, which Naomi could now see was bleeding.

A moment later, a young woman came in, took one look at the broken IV, rushed out and twenty minutes later, Blair's left arm was bandaged, a new IV pumping into his right arm.

"Just what alleys do you think I frequent, anyway? And I don't even know a Bruno, not to mention the fact that I'd never date a Bruno, let alone a Bambi."

"You going to let your mother talk?" Jim was sitting on the edge of the bed, Blair's hand firmly held, his pale blue eyes gazing down at Blair with enough love to light up the city of Cascade for 24 hours.

At his words, Blair stopped, blinked and turned his attention to Naomi - and waited - but he looked all the world like a young man waiting for the last ax to fall.

Naomi walked over to a chair, pulled up alongside the bed, sat down and regarded the two men. She smiled tentatively, nervously...then took a deep breath and began.

"Blair, when I was 16, I rebelled against my parents. They were controlling, there was no love in their home, God was a wrathful entity and I was supposed to be a good Christian girl. And yes, I said Christian. My father, your grandfather, was Jewish. Our last name was Burgstrom. He was, once, a gentle, quiet man, but marriage to my mother, changed him, I think. My mother was Janice Sanderson and when she met my father and they married, she told him they would have a good Christian home and raise their children to be good Christians.

"He agreed because he loved her and, I suspect, because he'd never been a practicing Jew. My mother was a strong woman, rigid in her beliefs, unbending in the dogma of Christianity. When I rebelled, it was in the typical teenage fashion. I'd get to school, change my clothes and put on make-up. At night, I'd sneak out and party. I drank, used drugs, was wild, insane and looking for any kindness I could find."

Naomi got to her feet, knowing that this next part would be the most difficult. But before she could say more, Jim offered, "I can wait outside, if you'd prefer?"

She shook her head but smiled her gratitude at his thoughtfulness. "No, Jim, please stay. Please."

He nodded and she went on.

"There was a party at a fraternity house and I was dying to go. There was this boy, Randy, and I wanted to impress him. When I got there, I was surprised to find only three other girls there. Three girls and ten college men. They had grass, LSD, you name it. I drank, I took what they gave me...and you can imagine the rest. And no, Blair, I can see the question already forming in that mind of yours. I wasn't raped. I made love that night, eager for it, wanting it, caring only that they said I was beautiful and they loved me."

Blair reached out a hand and Naomi walked back to him, taking it before sitting down on the other edge of the bed to continue, grateful for her son's strength at that moment.

"Funny thing, though...Randy wasn't even there." Naomi gave a small, dry laugh. "But the others made me feel wanted, loved. The next morning I was terribly sick of course, but mother just thought I had the flu and I let her believe that over a hangover. A few weeks later, I missed my period and went to a free clinic where I was told that I was pregnant. Blair, I was ecstatic. I was. Even now, I remember how I felt the moment the doctor told me. Two minutes earlier, I'd been dreading the news but the moment he said, 'Miss Burgstrom, you're going to have a baby.' I lit up inside because I was going to be a mother."

Naomi could see there were still questions Blair wanted to ask, but she also saw the patience, so she continued, a small, beautiful smile on her face because it felt good, this telling of the truth.

"I told my mother and father two weeks later. I can't say anything to prepare you for her words, or the icy cold that permeated the living room when I told her. My father stayed silent and hurt, but my mother was anything but. She insisted that we go to the family doctor immediately and abort you - only - she didn't say it like that, she said, 'We'll have the monster aborted and you'll never speak of this again. Do you hear me, Naomi?' But I couldn't let that happen. I'd already seen you, you see, in my dreams. I'd already seen my beautiful little boy with curly hair and wide, pale blue eyes. I saw your grin, heard your voice and knew I had to run. So I did. I left that night. I took her money, some jewels, my clothes, and ran.

"I changed my name - took the Sand from her last name and the Burg to form Sandburg and that's who we became. When you were born, I looked so hard for the perfect first name for you - I was living in a commune at the time and you can imagine the names they wanted to give you - but I felt so blessed to have you and that somehow, together, we'd won a battle in the fields." She chuckled. "As you know, you were actually born outside - in the wheat field." She looked over at Jim and warned, "Jim, if you say one word...."

She gave him her best mother look and, in return, he crossed his heart even though he was grinning.

"Good. Anyway, someone suggested the name 'Blair' because, in spite of having several different meanings, when we put them all together, we had a blessed child born in a field and from a battle from which we emerged victorious. So you that's why you're Blair.

"I held you to my breast and didn't care what I'd lost when I ran, I only cared about what I'd found, what I'd received in return. And of course, you looked just like I knew you would. You had all those curls right away and everyone wanted to touch your soft hair." Naomi reached out and caught a curl between her fingers.

At that moment, both Jim and Blair could see the teenager in Naomi's dreamy eyes and expression as she remembered a moment women all over the world cherish.

"...your skin was baby soft and you hardly ever cried, Blair, really, and you never got sick. You loved to giggle and were always reaching for my red hair, it fascinated you. You also had to look at everything and everything you saw, you wanted to touch. You were always reaching out for something. And I'm sure Jim wouldn't be surprised to hear how early you started to walk, or that you preferred running over walking. Your first steps were runs, not even hesitant... you got seven steps away from me before I could even catch you, and when you fell, you just chortled. You thought it was tremendously funny. Everyone at the commune said you'd grow up to be a member of the NRA and a Republican but I said, no, that you'd be a great man, a discoverer and explorer."

She didn't notice Blair's face close down, but Jim did and he squeezed the hand he held.

"But instead, I became a cop," Blair whispered.

Naomi looked at her son, at the sadness in his eyes and she smiled lovingly.  
"Yes, a cop. After you discovered something that changed your life." She glanced briefly at Jim, then back to Blair. "After you found your place in the world and happiness...so yes, now now my little boy is a cop and a good one, and you'll make a difference, because you have someone you need to protect, who in turn must protect the tribe and, together, you'll both face the world and win."

The joy that suffused Blair's face was beautiful to behold, as he breathed out and his blue eyes widened. "You do understand, you do."

Naomi nodded, still smiling. She leaned over and kissed his forehead. "Yes, I do. Finally. It took a great deal of soul searching, but the truth was there. I just needed to open my eyes and let that hippie brain of mine do its stuff... and there it was. So simple. So - right."

Jim knew that now was the time for him to leave, to let mother and son talk, hug, cry, and anything else they needed to do. He let go of Blair's hand, tucked it under the blanket, and got up. "I think this is where I get a cup of coffee and let you two talk. I'll bring back food, okay?"

They both looked at him and for the first time, he actually saw the resemblance - they were sharing the exact same look of gratitude. Then Naomi said, "You'll find a woman out in the waiting room, a small blonde named Collie. Would you take her with you and let her know--"

"Collie?! Here? Why didn't you say something?"

"Well, we were kind of busy, sweetie."

Blair grinned and shook his head in amazement. "Guess we were at that." He looked up at his partner. "You'll love her, Jim, but don't believe a word she tells you about me, she likes to embellish and I learned the ability to obfuscate from her."

Jim chuckled, bent over, gave Naomi a quick look, spotted the acceptance, so dropped a kiss on Blair's lips. "Be back in about thirty, okay, Chief?"

"Yeah, good, Jim. And if she tells you a story about a park and a show-and-tell between me and Roxanne Willard, just remember, she's a compulsive liar too."

Laughing outright now, Jim left feeling that maybe, just maybe, the light at the end of the tunnel wasn't a train.

*****

"Blair, can you forgive me? For not being here, for not telling you the truth until now? Forgive so many things?"

"Mom, please, don't. The last year and a half have seen more mistakes and poor judgment calls by yours truly that forgiveness becomes moot. Besides, you're my mother and forgiveness isn't an issue."

She smiled, and said, "So, a mother can do these stupid things?"

"Yep. It's in the contract. Article 52 which states: 'A mother has free reign to make mistakes, to be controlling, to put 10 foot high barbed wired fences around the nest and to never admit that she's wrong.' End quote."

"I like Article 50, which states, 'No matter how stupid a mother may be...if her son is named Blair, she's a winner.'"

"Aw, shucks."

"Shut up," she said, lovingly.

A few quiet moments passed while both mother and son digested the last several minutes. For Blair, he suddenly found himself feeling - shy - around his mother. He was also grappling with the fact that he had a family somewhere. It was kind of overwhelming.

Naomi must have realized some of what he was feeling because she suddenly said, "Your Grandmother is dead, Blair. She died back in '90. Your grandfather is still alive and resides in an assisted living complex in Orlando. And yes, I did eventually contact them - right after you turned sixteen."

"What happened?"

Naomi glanced away, eyes fastening on the window, on the massive tree just outside. Her voice, when she spoke, was distant and sad. "She refused to see you. Offered me money to come home on the condition that I give you up. She said that was all I had to do to be alive again."

"Mom...."

"I told her to go to hell. She wouldn't let me talk to dad but I managed it a few weeks later. He asked about you, what you looked like...but she must have come in, because he suddenly broke the connection. My only regret is that she died too easily - she had a stroke and dropped dead."

Blair had never heard his mother talk in such a manner in his entire life. This was a very different Naomi Sandburg. He liked her.

"Have you...ever seen him?"

"No. And - I won't. But you can, if you want to...."

There was a thoughtful pause and then Naomi took his hand and said, "Blair, honey, I didn't know, but I should have. I can't explain, I don't understand myself. Except...when I think back, when I look at the me I was around Mickey, all I remember is how many times I thought to myself, 'Naomi, your mother was wrong. This man loves you, loves Blair, and is going to marry you'. So I happily donned the rose-colored glasses and, as a result, you were hurt - terribly."

Blair glanced down at his right hand, at the circular pattern his finger was making on the hospital blanket. His gaze followed it around and around...as he traced circle after circle.

Circles, full circle.

Deva.

A stuffed animal that wasn't - meeting Jim in Yosemite - and then a wolf taking Mickey Goddard out of the picture twenty-five years later.

"Mom, remember that time in Yosemite?"

"Yosemite? You mean when you got lost? Or should I say...when you ran away?"

Blair nodded, but still didn't look at her. "Yeah. And you're right, I ran away. I'd dropped a box and Mickey was angry so I ran. Anyway, remember the teenager I told you about, the one who brought me back?"

"Yes...."

"It was Jim."

Naomi's eyes grew round as she sucked in a deep breath at Blair's words. "Jim?"

He nodded and finally made eye contact again. "Yeah. He found me sitting in the river." He smiled. "I'd walked in to cool my feet and then - well, I started crying so I sat down in the middle of the water and that's when he found me. He was my - Superman."

The vision of Blair in the backyard with Deva came back to her then. The red cape and Blair flying Deva around in circles....

"Of course...of course," she whispered. It made sense, in a Blair/Jim kind of way. "Oh, Horatio, you couldn't begin to know," she thought.

"There's...more, Mom. About Deva. I never told you why I wanted him."

With a shaking hand, she reached out, feeling for his face and finding it. She rested her hand on his cheek, "Tell me, Blair... tell me everything."

"Tell us both, Chief."

Mother and son turned to face Jim, who stood just inside with a box of food in his hand.

"Aunt Collie?"

"She's outside in the waiting room. She seemed to think that maybe you weren't ready for her just yet, that there might be more you and Naomi needed to discuss. Evidently she was right. Do you mind if I stay? I'd like to hear this too."

Jim remained by the door, hesitant, but at a nod from Blair, he moved to the bed and sat down opposite Naomi.

Blair took a deep breath, uncertain as to how this story would be received. He'd never had a clear memory of the dream, just the memory of the need. But lately, like so much else, the dream had come back, vivid in its detail, confusing in its images. He looked to Jim, saw only love, acceptance and a bit of curiosity, so he smiled and started talking.

"In the dream, I was sitting in a very lush garden. At least, to a five-year old it looked like a garden. Seeing it now, it was more like a jungle. Anyway, I was happy and playing until something entered my space and suddenly I was scared. I remember whispering something like, 'Oh, no, not again.' Then the sun was blocked out by a large shape...."

Blair stopped, the vision suddenly so clear, so - close. A squeeze of Jim's hand gave him the courage to continue.

"I was about to scramble up and run, but you were there, Jim. The teen-aged you, from Yosemite. You were smiling and by your side, you had a large, black cat. He was seated and rubbing your thigh with his head while you petted it. Then you said, 'Here, Blair, take him, he's yours until you don't need him anymore. He'll protect you until we can protect each other.' You bent down and lifted this huge cat, only as soon as it was in your arms, it became a stuffed animal. You walked toward me and put him in my arms. Then you said, 'Your mom will find him, so don't worry.' The cat started purring and I hugged him and buried my face in his warm soft fur. His purring seemed to be saying a name - over and over - and it was Deva. Oddly enough, I learned later that Deva had once been considered an Egyptian goddess--"

Jim snorted at that and said, "Goddess? You're telling me my spirit animal is female?"

"No, man, just let me finish. Anyway, she was known as a... _guardian_...although I understand she was eventually demoted - damn shame, really."

Jim interrupted with a gently said, "Chief?"

"Right. So anyway, I had Deva and I woke up."

"And that's when you came into my room and asked me to buy it, yes?"

He nodded. "Yep. I knew Deva would be waiting for you to find him. I just...knew it."

"Don't you think you'd better tell Naomi all of it?" Jim encouraged gently.

Naomi's eyebrow cocked as she tilted her head and asked, "There's more?"

Blair was staring at the blanket again, at his fingers, which were once more tearing at the tufts of material.

"Tell her, Blair. Tell her."

"Damn. Mom, you really don't want to hear this...trust me."

"Wrong. Now's the time for everything - so spill it, young man," she commanded gently.

With a resigned sigh, Blair said, "Mickey came back."

"What do you mean, Mickey came back? Do you mean in a dream, honey?"

Blair shifted uncomfortably and shook his head.

"Blair, tell her."

"Okay, but...you won't like it...."

***

The Past -

_He was hungry. Reeeeally hungry, and so was Deva. "time for samwichs and Fritoooes and chocolate milk. and if you're good, Dev, you can have some choco milk too, and maybe even a cookie, 'kay?" A strong purr was the cat's response so Blair nodded happily, scrambled up from the grass and ran into the house, hoping his new babysitter would be ready to fix his lunch. His stomach was growling and rumbling and he sounded just like Deva! He bounded through the backdoor, letting the screen slam shut behind him and, just as he reached the door to the living room, Deva stiffened in his arms and started growling; a deep, vicious growl, one that sent the hairs on the back of Blair's neck shooting straight up._

_Then he heard the voice._

_"No, I'm Naomi's fiancée. Please, don't worry, what do I owe you?"_

_"Thirty-five, but I really shouldn't leave...."_

_"Here's sixty and don't worry about it."_

_Blair heard the front door close and knew he was alone in the house with Mickey._

_He stepped cautiously back, heart thudding in his chest as sweat broke out on his face and he suddenly found it difficult to breathe. He started to turn, to go back the way he came, but a huge hand grabbed his shirt collar and yanked him into the living room._

_Blair was lifted off his feet and, with Deva clutched tightly to his chest, he faced Mickey._

_"And you were going where, exactly, Blair?"_

_With wide, frightened blue eyes blinking, Blair found he couldn't talk, not a word. He just shook his head helplessly so Mickey dropped him._

_He landed with a thud on the hardwood floor and immediately scooted back, still holding Deva in a death grip. He stopped when he hit the wall and finally gazed up at the angry man above him._

_The face staring down at him was suffused in anger, eyes glittering with madness. And, for the first time, Blair saw true hatred - directed at him._

_"You," Mickey growled out._

_Blair somehow managed to pull himself up along the wall, his eyes seeking shelter, escape, but finding none. "mommy," he whispered._

_"No, no mommy, Blair. No one to help you this time, nowhere to run or hide."_

_He advanced on Blair, who began to tremble._

_"Because of you, there was no wedding so how hard is it to figure out that if you were out of the picture, Naomi would be mine. I was going to do it in Yosemite, had it all planned out. You were going to simply disappear. Oh, I'd have led the search, call Naomi, frantic and blaming myself. I would be tireless in my efforts to find you... maybe, eventually, leading them to where you were...the tragic victim of a fall...but you had to ruin it all by running away - and then coming back."_

_Blair stared up at the man, eyes impossibly wide, his mind reeling. His small fingers gripped Deva convulsively as he listened to an insane man tell him of his planned death. He was a child and hatred was abstract. He could hate the bad guy on a cartoon, or hate Lex Luther, or Brainiac, he could hate spinach, or broccoli, but he didn't hate real people. He didn't understand the concept even though he was experiencing it now...vile, corrupt, insane hatred focused on him, a boy. Just a boy._

_He shrunk back, if possible, even tighter against the wall, wishing with everything he was that Jim could just walk in... not his mother, but Jim. He even whispered his name before letting the tears spill over._

_Hands, large, ugly hands reached for him as more words spewed forth...._

_"I'm going to fix everything now... you're going to have that accident and I'll show up in a couple of days to comfort her, and that stupid babysitter, who let you outside, will be blamed and oh, if only I'd arrived earlier, I'd have been able to save you...."_

_His voice held no sanity or reason, he couldn't possibly have thought this out, but those hands were touching Blair, and he closed his eyes tightly. Then, as he felt himself being lifted, the fur around his fingers warmed and shifted and he felt muscles rippling and a tail twitching. Blair cracked open one eye, heard Deva growl again, this time in a way that was so frightening, so unbelievable, that the hands holding Blair's green tee shirt stalled and fumbled, Mickey's fingers releasing him._

_Blair dropped to the floor and the small house rang with the roar, the bellowing yowl of Deva. As Blair planted himself once more against the wall, the ball of fur changed, grew, and charged from his arms, seemingly morphing into a full- sized jaguar in midair. Sleek, midnight velvet black, with piercing yellow eyes glowing, teeth barred, upper lip pulled back in a semblance of a sneer. The gigantic predator landed gracefully, body crouched low, ears and whiskers flattened._

_One long, lean leg moved and Mickey found himself the prey. He watched, mesmerized, as the long, pink tongue swiped over razor sharp teeth...._

_The cat moved, slowly, languidly, the deep rumbling growl in its chest sending Mickey's hair rising up, and the sweat dripping down his back - because this couldn't be real, he couldn't be looking at a real panther, but he found himself backing up anyway and looking for a way out. But the cat kept moving, creeping forward as the deep-throated growl grew louder, reverberating within his skull, bouncing and slamming into his brain. He reached back with one hand and, with some relief, felt the door knob. He turned it and the door opened...but at the same time, the great cat's mouth opened, wide and huge, and the growl became a scream of rage. The cat was low to the ground now... its back haunches rippling with the strain, the need to jump...and Mickey found the screen door, pushed with all that he had, and then he felt sun and escape._

_In an instant, Michael Goddard was out the front door, face so white he looked like new death, his mouth open in a soundless scream. He somehow found his keys, climbed into his car and spun out of the driveway._

_Michael Goddard was gone._

_Blair stood, hands at his side, cheeks tear-stained, mouth working but with no sounds issuing forth. In the middle of the living room floor, his small, stuffed jaguar, Deva, sat calmly and unmoving._

_Blair took a hesitant step forward, just one, stopped, cocked his head, brought up one hand and palmed his eye, then tilted his head in the other direction, palmed his other eye, took another step...and finally squatted down in front of his cat and slowly reached out to touch him with his index finger._

_It was just - Deva. Warm, yes, like always - and purring like always, but still, just his Deva._

_He picked him up, held him to his face and rubbed the softness against his wet cheek. Eventually, he got up, closed and locked the front door, went into the kitchen, out the back door and into the daylight._

_***_

_Naomi was surprised to find the front door closed and locked. It was still light outside and warm. She unlocked it and, as she stepped inside, yelled, "Blair, sweetie, I'm home!"_

_When there was no answer, she put her purse and jacket down and walked into the kitchen fully expecting to see the babysitter. When she didn't, she panicked - until she heard Blair's voice coming from outside._

_"good baby, i'll carry you, I'll 'tect you, you 'tect me, i'll 'tect you...."_

_She walked to the screen door and stepped out onto the patio. Blair sat in the middle of the grass, Deva on his lap. He was huddled over the cat, grooming and petting, dipping his curls low, stroking and loving._

_"Blair? Honey? Where's Mrs. Broxton?"_

_Blair lifted his head and blue eyes met hers. He blinked, as if coming back from a far distance, and said, "i don't know, mommy."_

_His voice was soft and low, but with no inflection so Naomi stepped over to him, knelt by his side and, as she unconsciously scratched Deva's ear, asked, "Honey, it's after four. How long has she been gone?"_

_"i don't know, mommy," he said as he continued to groom Deva._

_"Have you had lunch?" As she asked, she couldn't keep the rising tide of fear from her voice, let alone the anger at that stupid babysitter. She had every intention of calling the police about this._

_"no, not hungry, mommy."_

_"Blair, when was the last--"_

_She was stopped when he lifted his head again, looked at her and smiled.  
"it's okay, it's okay, mommy." He crawled onto her lap, held Deva up and put his face to his mother's cheek, made a raspberry sound and giggled._

_Her arms went around her son and, as she vowed to make sure that Mrs. Broxton never worked as a babysitter again, as she planned the blistering words she'd yell at the irresponsible woman, her anger was diffused by the warmth of her son, by the arms around her neck, and the softness of the hair under her chin. She smiled and held him close._

***

The three people in the hospital room were silent. For Jim, hearing the story again, told in greater detail, was astounding. As long as he lived, he would be forever grateful to his spirit animal. But that thankfulness didn't negate the feeling of helplessness as he thought of Blair faced with a mad man. It was easy to remember the boy he'd met in Yosemite, a boy so trusting and giving, so full of life. That anyone could ever want to hurt him....

For Naomi, it was sheer wonder with a major dollop of miracle. She instinctively knew that what Blair had shared was real. That he'd been protected and saved by a large, alive cat. But then it hit her - Mickey had returned, had tried to kill her son - and he'd never told her.

"Blair, why did you keep quiet all these years?"

But it was Jim who spoke for Blair. "Naomi, he was five. I don't think he ever actually dealt with it - which, hello? Might explain why we're sitting in this hospital room right now."

Naomi nodded sheepishly. "Of course, you're right. He never dealt with it. He just - accepted it."

Blair had been going back and forth between the two, a disgusted look on his face, and now he interrupted. "Excuse me? I'm like, here, in the room, you know?"

"Blair, dear, shut up and let Jim and I talk."

"About me. You're talking about me. Just thought I should remind you that I'm here, awake, alive, and could probably tell you why I never told you...."

Both Naomi and Jim gave him curious looks as Naomi said, "Okay, honey, why didn't you tell me?"

Rolling his eyes, he said haughtily, "Isn't it obvious? I was only five, for crying out loud. You think I'd be capable of dealing with something like that? I don't think so."

"Gee, now why didn't I think of that?" Jim muttered.

"Are you both finished playing around? This is serious," Naomi admonished.

Blair smiled, a small, wry smile. "No, mom, serious is the one thing it can't be anymore. I've had serious. Done serious. And Mickey Goddard is dead. Now all I want is to go home and move on. You're back and, while I figure I may need more help, I also know that we can talk, share, and heal, all of us, together, okay?"

It sounded so good - the whole healing thing - after all these years. Naomi nodded, happily. So freeing, this truth stuff. But there was one still one issue left... the months since the press conference....

"I like the sound of that, Blair. But the last several months... I should have been here, so much could have been avoided, if I had. How can you forgive me?"

Blair leaned forward and took his mother into his arms, his eyes meeting Jim's over Naomi's head. "Mom, didn't we already have this conversation? Remember Article 52?"

"Right," she mumbled into his hospital gown, "I'd forgotten for a moment. Mom's can make mistakes."

"Big mistakes, gigantic mistakes, really huge mistakes--"

"Jim? Shut up. She's your mother now too."

"And what a wonderful mother she is, too," Jim promptly backpedaled.

"Jim, do you happen to know what Article 27 is?" Naomi asked, cheekily.

"No, I don't, and why do I think I don't want to since it undoubtedly has to do with a son's partner...."

"Oh, it does, dear. It does. Article 27 gives a mother full control over the spouse of the son. You have to eat what I fix, live with the changes I make in the loft and suffer through the sage. It's all there, in black and white. You're stuck, Jim, sweetie."

"Ah-ha! But I'm _not_ Blair's spouse."

"Yet."

"Mom, there will be no yet... mom? Get that gleam out of your eye... mom? Mom? No wedding, you hear me?"

***

Jim sat in Blair's bed, the remote for the television planted firmly in his hand. Blair had been making aborted moves on the remote for the last twenty minutes, but Jim was faster.

"Wrestling? You can't find anything else to watch?"

Jim dropped the arm holding the remote over Blair's shoulder, and got a bit more comfortable. There was something to this loving a guy who was shorter - they both fit on the bed.

"I'm looking for moves. You know, take down moves." He pretended to study the action on the screen above them.

"I've got news for you, Jim. You have the moves, they're just old and kind of out of date. But if the move fits, I say wear it."

Without looking at his partner, he said in a perfect rendition of the Witch of the West, "I'll get you, my little pretty and I still have the remote."

"Umph."

"Great comeback, Chief."

They watched the carnage on the screen, silent and smiling. But finally, Blair couldn't keep quiet any longer. "How did you like Collie?"

Jim clicked off the television, having been patient for the last couple of hours, waiting for a sign that Blair was ready to talk. They'd had dinner with Naomi, Collie and Simon, with Blair stuck eating hospital food while the others ate Wonderburger, courtesy of Simon. At seven, the doctor came by, happy to see the improvement in his patient and confirming that yes, Jim could take his partner home in the morning. Now, over two hours later, the opening Jim had been hoping for, had presented itself.

"I liked her. A great deal. She's very...there, if you know what I mean."

"I think you mean, out there...kind of like Naomi, but more--"

"Grounded."

Blair chuckled and nodded. "Yeah, more grounded."

"She was important to you, when you were growing up, wasn't she?"

Blair shifted in Jim's arm and smiled in the dimness of the room, knowing Jim could see it. "Yeah, she was. Not long after Mom got me Deva, she went away for the first time." Blair sat up and tucked his legs under him, his elbows resting on his knees. Jim remained where he was, quiet, hoping Blair would continue.

"I was so certain that was it and it puzzled me. I thought I'd been so good but she was leaving anyway and she had so many bags. But she'd said it was for only a weekend, but she had bags and bags and bags." He paused, took a deep breath, and gave a small laugh. "Silly, huh?"

"Not at all. Very real. When my mother went away, I figured Dad wouldn't be very far behind."

Blair looked over at Jim, saw his own pain and said, "We're a pair, aren't we?"

"Yeah, we are. And you should be proud of me, I resisted the obvious."

"I noticed. So in reward, go ahead, say it. You know you're dying to."

"A pair of what?"

"Feel better now?"

"Much. But I'd feel even better if a certain half of the pair were to, oh, say, settle back against me? Let me hold him, for instance?"

"We'll shock the nurses."

"We'll save that for later."

Blair laughed, and Jim pulled him back and settled him against his chest, wrapping his arms around Blair's body and resting his head on Blair's shoulder. "Go on, about Collie."

"She - helped. She somehow knew, maybe intuitively, that I needed to know mom was coming back, so she called her, everyday, and made sure I talked with her. Mom shared every experience and that was how it was after that - whenever she left. Well, up to when I was seven, anyway."

"What happened then?" Jim asked quietly.

"Mom had a new boyfriend. Dav-vid." Blair drew out the name, obviously mimicking his mother. "We went back east, because of his job. And never really went back to Oregon. I mean, I saw Collie, she'd come visit us or we'd visit her, but it was different after that. But she was there, when I needed her."

"Tell me about this David guy."

"Jim, believe me when I say you do _not_ want to know about all of mom's, shall we say, boyfriends?"

"Were there anymore Mickey's?"

He'd asked it gently, but the fear was there, loud and clear. Blair quickly reassured him. "Nope, no more Mickey's. Believe me, if any of them had even raised their voices to me, Naomi would have been out of there so fast, it'd have made your head spin. They all soon learned - make Naomi's little boy happy, and all was well. I wasn't joking when I mentioned all those playoffs and stuff."

"But you weren't telling all of the truth either, were you? Did any of them - matter to you?" Blair was silent for quite awhile, and Jim let it go on, but eventually, he prodded. "Well?"

"One or - two. A couple where I thought - maybe this one - maybe this one, she'll marry. But it never happened. I understand some of it now. She knew she was a gypsy, but a part of her, a part of her was still listening to her mother. You know?"

"Yeah, Chief, I do."

"By the way, did you tell them about Katie?"

Jim laughed softly, "Yeah. They're going to pick her up from Mrs. Donaldson. Man, I'd love to see your mother handling Katie."

"She was good with Luli." It was all that Blair said about Luli, but it was enough.

Jim leaned in and whispered, "Did you know?"

Blair nodded, "Yeah, I knew it was on purpose. I knew that night."

Jim's arms tightened. "I'm sorry."

"Yeah, me too. She just wanted love and to give it back in return. She didn't deserve that. She used to try to protect me too. She'd growl every time she heard his voice. She was a good dog, Jim." His voice trailed off, shakily, and Jim felt moisture on his arm, and then moisture on his own cheeks. He buried his face in Blair's neck.

***

It felt good to be home. Home with Jim and Katie - and yes, his mother, who was staying in his old room - and Collie who had the couch.

The doctor had set him up with a psychologist and Blair hadn't argued. Not when he'd seen the look on Jim's face. But Blair didn't hold out much hope. He'd seen too many over the years and the help he'd needed, he finally - had. His mother.

And the truth.

He could admit it now, admit that he'd been affected by a belief that he hadn't been wanted juxtaposed against the love his mother had lavished on him. Somehow the two disparate feelings had served to separate him from the world, hence the easy slip into anthropology. He'd become an observer because it was safer. He could also say that, in the back of his mind, he'd been holding back because somehow, somewhere, he'd subconsciously known he'd find Jim again. That hidden knowledge had driven him through the years and had undoubtedly been the cause behind his insistence that Sentinels existed. He'd been laughed at for that belief, almost as much as Burton, but he'd persisted. He'd pushed through all the crap, ignored the naysayers, buried his head in academia and his travels, while the entire time - he'd been waiting.

And now - he had Jim, his Sentinel. His Superman.

He smiled from his spot on the couch and listened to his mother currently cooing to Katie on the floor while Jim and Collie worked in the kitchen, putting dinner together. He was tired, bone tired, which was probably why the doctor had instructed rest. Seemed mental anguish took a great deal out of a guy. Duh! But he wasn't going to argue. Not when it meant a vacation for them.

It seemed he was getting selfish in his old age. Good. If he'd learned nothing else in the last nine months, hell, in the last thirty years, it was to hold onto today because you might not have a tomorrow. Martin had learned that, as had Megan and Beth's husband.

They'd all learned it.

Funny how the heart could break into a million pieces - and then reform itslef, often stronger than before. Megan, while she'd never forget Rafe - and maybe never love the same way again, was currently seeing a young lawyer from the DA's office - and she seemed happy. Martin wasn't dating yet, but Blair hadn't missed the looks a certain detective had been sending Martin's way... and if Blair knew Richard Perkins at all, Martin didn't stand a chance. But Rich had his work cut out for him, that was for sure. Peter was nearly impossible to follow.

He wondered if he'd survive the way Martin and Megan had if he lost Jim. If he'd survive at all. It had been nine months since Peter's death and Martin hadn't totally recovered, but to Blair, that was reasonable. To others, it wasn't. But damn it, you grieved for as long as you grieved and no one dare say how long that should be. No one. The bond between Peter and Martin had been strong. And yes, ultimately, Martin had found a reason to go on. Would Blair?

But he knew the answer - he wouldn't. And it wasn't a matter of strength, willpower, love of life or simply moving on, but he could never explain that to anyone. They wouldn't believe him. Blair knew that he was so tightly wound around Jim, that without him, he'd simply fade to nothing and, yes, many would say that was wrong, that no one person should matter that much, but Blair disagreed. If only one person could matter that much to everyone, the world would be a better place.

So, he had his answer. Half of it, anyway.

"Here."

Blair looked up as his mother pulled something from behind her back and set it down on Blair's lap. For a moment, he just stared at it.

Deva.

His first Deva. The real Deva.

For a moment, his hands remained at his side but slowly, he touched him.

Warm. Soft.

He was so intent on the cat, he failed to notice Jim and Collie come up behind the couch. He wasn't aware of Jim, standing directly behind him, or that his mother had moved to Collie's side and that they'd linked arms.

He carefully turned the cat, lifted him to his face in order to look deeply into the glass eyes - and in them, he saw Jim's smiling face reflected back at him.

"The real thing, Chief?"

"Yeah."

Jim walked around the couch and took his place next to Blair. He reached out, as he had so many times with the other Deva, and scratched behind the cat's ears.

Blair's fingers started to tingle - because Dev was purring.

"Thanks, mom."

"No, honey, the thanks goes to Collie. She's kept him all these years."

"Right where we put him, Blair."

Blair turned to look back at Collie and smiled the widest smile she'd seen on anyone in years.

***

That night -

"Penny for your thoughts?"

Blair wedged himself in closer to Jim and ran his hand down Jim's bare leg. The loft was quiet, everyone in bed - but Blair suspected he and Jim were the only ones still awake.

At the direction Blair's hand was now going, Jim decided maybe Blair's thoughts could wait. "Okay, no pennies required," he conceded. "And could you move it a little to the - left."

Blair laughed out loud, his hand obediently moving to the left, which put it in direct contact with Jim's cock. "Like this?"

"Mmm." It was nice - very nice - except....

"Blair, where - and when - did you learn that little move?"

"Just made it up. You enjoying it?"

"Very much - you have a very talented...thumb."

"I do indeed."

The sensations Jim was currently experiencing were - well, wow was a good word. Eyes closed and semi-floating, he still managed to say, "You did _not_ make that up. Someone taught... shit...god...fuck... yes, definitely yes, right there...."

"Hey, keep it down, Hercules. We have company asleep downstairs."

"How am I supposed...to...wow...keep it down...if you keep... yeah, a little faster...this up?"

Blair rolled over on top of Jim, his hand still firmly in charge of one very warm, pulsing body part. He captured Jim's mouth, thinking that should shut him up.

The kiss was deep, controlled and focused because Blair really wanted this - in its purest state, no ulterior motives, no need to keep any fears or nightmares at bay. He just wanted Jim - to make love to him - without Mickey.

Tonight, it would be just the two of them and Blair wanted to make it so good for them.

A sure sign he was on the mend.

Jim had started to buck into his hand, his moans moving from the back of his throat and straight into Blair's mouth. He tasted Jim's tongue, played with it, sucked it in, felt Jim's hands move up under his t-shirt, caress his back and finally settle under his arms. Blair pulled back and up and, with some quick maneuvering, got out of his boxers. Jim got the message and, with a few slick moves of his own, was quickly naked. Blair rose up as Jim reached for the lube and, in quick order, they were both ready.

Gazing into Jim's eyes, now darkening with passion, Blair slowly lowered himself...wonderfully slow. He watched Jim's face, gauging his reaction and when he saw Jim bite down on his bottom lip, Blair placed his hands on Jim's shoulders and lowered himself all the way down.

From that moment on, he owned Jim and Jim surrendered.

Blair moved up and down, gently at first, teasing, his own pleasure on the back burner as he tried to give Jim everything he could, including dropping kisses on his face, cheeks and eyelids. He rained feather-light kisses on his neck and suckled at his adam's apple. When Jim started thrusting in earnest, Blair picked up the pace.

Fast now, and hard, Jim joined the rhythm and the control was now evenly divided, with Jim's hands anchored on Blair's hips. Somehow, they got Blair's tank top off and Jim latched onto a nipple, tweaking it and causing Blair to shift just enough that Jim hit Blair's prostate. At the same time, he bit down on the now rigid nipple and Blair exploded.

Warm semen now coated their chests and the scent was enough by itself to driving Jim to completion and, with a furious thrust upward, he came, silent, body arched, head thrown back.

 

***

With a soft, satisfied sigh, Blair dropped forward to rest his head against Jim's right cheek. They remained in that position for several minutes, breathing hard, hands still absently stroking, limbs trembling.

"Thank you, Blair," Jim murmured into sweat-soaked hair.

Blair lifted his head, dreamy eyes meeting Jim's sated ones. He rested his lips against Jim's, then carefully pulled up, letting Jim slip from his body with a regretful sigh. "Love you, too."

Jim's hand cupped the back of Blair's head and he pushed lightly, just enough to bring Blair's beautiful lips back within range, but before he dived in, he asked gently, "You'll tell me if you can't sleep this time, right? If you have a nightmare or--"

He didn't finish because Blair put his hand over Jim's mouth. With his own lips hovering over his own hand, Blair smiled. "Yes, Jim, I'll tell you."

Jim relaxed, seeing the truth in his love's eyes.

***

Epilogue -

Naomi sat on the balcony, enjoying the sun and the sounds coming from inside the loft. Collie had left two days ago, but Naomi had been talked into staying a bit longer, mostly because she knew there was more to talk about between her and Blair. But right now, her world was good, wonderful, in fact, as she listened to her son and Jim.

_"I don't believe you're going to change the drawers again. You are so...."_

_"Clean."_

_"Jim, this is not about clean. This is about compulsive, obsessive behavior, you jerk."_

_"I think you mean that I'm a compulsive _possessive_ jerk, Chief."_

_"Compulsive-obsessive and horny jerk."_

_"You got it. And isn't it your turn to take Katie for her walk?"_

_"No. Naomi beat us to it."_

_"Then take out those wooden spoons and give me the spatulas."_

_"I am _not_ going to enable this sick behavior. Instead, I'm going out to the patio, sit with mom, and talk about you behind your back."_

_"Blair," Jim said, with infinite patience, and sorrow as the younger man scooted from his embrace, "Blair, I'm a sentinel, you can't talk about me behind my back."_

_"Say it ain't so!"_

_"Sorry, Chief, but it's the truth."_

_"Well, damn," Blair said with a fake pout. "Then I take my leave of you, you schmuck."_

_"Ah, my little thesaurus."_

Laughing, Blair moved to the windows and joined his mother. Once outside, he breathed in the fresh air just as Naomi reached up and took his hand. They smiled warmly at each other.

"You two sound good together."

"He's an anal retentive schmo."

"I meant - the last few nights."

Blair blushed right up to his roots. "Mom, I, we, uhm, sorry, didn't mean to wake you...."

"I know."

He sat down in the chair next to her and noticed the object on her lap. He let an eyebrow rise in question so she turned it over and handed it to him.

Surprised, Blair said, "This is the photo I sent Collie."

"I know. She gave it to me."

Blair glanced up, puzzled. "Why? I sent you one too."

"You did?"

"Yep. I think you were in Sri Lanka. Damn, it probably missed you. But hey, it's not a great picture, why did she think you'd want it?"

Naomi took it back from Blair and gazed at it, running her fingers over Blair's face, the sign, and the students. Her deep sigh didn't escape her son so he got up and started back into the loft, only to be stopped at the edge of the casement by Jim, who handed him a picture, a huge grin on his face.

Shaking his head, he said, "God, you're so sentinelish."

"Yeah, and you're stuck with me, Chief, so get over it."

Blair chuckled, murmured something about divorce court and turned back to his mother. "Here, Mom, I think maybe you'll like this one better." He took the Rainier picture from her hands, dropped it on the small table and handed her the new one.

As she gazed at it, she realized it was very similar to the other...meaning it had a huge hand-made sign over a group of laughing people and Blair in the center.

Except - this one had been taken at the station, in the squad room of Major Crime. The laughing people were detectives - his friends and co-workers.

Jim stood behind Blair, one hand resting on Blair's shoulder, both of them smiling broadly into the camera. She recognized Martin Regan next to Blair and he had his hand up behind Blair's head, waggling two fingers. Simon stood to Blair's right, ever-present, but non-lit cigar in his mouth. She also recognized the Australian exchange officer, Megan Connor, who was laughing up at Joel Taggart. There was also a man in a wheelchair and she knew it had to be Luis Mendoza. Kneeling beside him was the detective she'd been introduced to over a year ago...Henri Brown, if she recalled correctly. She didn't know any of the others, but the sign told her why they were all posing.

It read:

**WELCOME BACK, DETECTIVE SANDBURG!**

A drop of moisture hit the glass with a gentle splat and she quickly brushed tears from her cheeks. "You're right, Blair. I do like this one better."

***

Naomi had been delivered to the airport, having decided to go back to Oregon and spend girlfriend time with Collie. Blair was upstairs, already in bed, and Jim suspected, asleep. The two days with Naomi had been good for both Blair and Jim. Blair and his mother had talked, argued and rediscovered their relationship and then, yesterday, Blair had left the loft on the pretext of desperately needing some of Mama Lizette's croissants, but in actuality, wanting Jim and Naomi to have some time together.

Blair was fully aware that Jim still harbored feelings of the anger and, that for Blair, he'd been hiding them. So Blair decided that his partner and his mother needed time to talk.

As Jim moved about the loft, checking locks, doing last minute clean-up and general sentinel duty, he pondered Naomi, her life, her choices, and their discussion before she'd left....

"My son likes to think he's subtle."

Jim came down the stairs, Katie in his arms and, at Naomi's words, smiled and said, "Oh, but he is. Like a howitzer, he's subtle."

They shared a gentle laugh as Jim sat down opposite his mother-in-law, Katie settling on his lap. They both watched the dog for a minute, smiled at her machinations to get Jim's lap more suitable, her pawing of his leg, forcing him to change position slightly to accommodate her needs.

When she curled up, finally satisfied, Naomi said, "Does he know about the phone call?"

"No - and you have my apologies for that, Naomi. I was rude and it was inexcusable."

"Yes, you were rude and your language left a great deal to be desired, but inexcusable? No. You love my son and you were forced to stand by while he tore himself apart - all the while knowing that what he really needed was me - but I wasn't here."

She jumped up, suddenly nervous, and walked to the window to look out at the city. "So many times in his life and I wasn't there." She turned, arms clasped around her middle, almost as if in pain. "Jim, if I could change that thing about me, that thing that says I have to keep going, keep moving, I would." She cocked her head at him, regarding him with puzzlement. "Do you think I was running away?"

He thought about that for a minute, thought about all that he'd learned of the woman standing before him and, finally, shook his head. "No, not running away - but maybe - running to something?"

"But I haven't found it yet, have I?"

"I can't answer that for you. I've spent the better part of my life running and in the last three years, ran my hardest race. Fortunately for me, your son refused to let me win." Jim suddenly smiled, a bright, warm grin.

She gave a helpless little shrug and said, "Care to share what you mean?"

"It's this vision I get sometimes... I'm running like crazy, away from everything I should be running toward, and there's this little wolf-pup with his teeth fastened on my pants leg, heels dug in. He's growling, this funny, fierce growl, and I look back, trying to figure out how to get him the hell off me when suddenly - it's Blair. While I'm staring at him, wondering how the hell that happened, he lifts me up. Just like that. He lifts me up. And I don't have to run anymore."

He looked at her, eyes alight. "I don't run anymore because of Blair. I know who and what I am and I like me. I've never been able to say that before. I. Like. Me."

She took his hand in hers. "I like you too, Jim. Very much. In all my dreams of the person who would win my son's heart, none of them could compare to the real thing. You've given him more than I ever could. You gave him a home, an anchor, and your soul."

"He gave me the same, and more." He paused, wondering how truthful he should be with her - but really, the answer was simple because, after all, Blair wasn't out buying phantom croissants so Jim could fake Naomi out or lie to himself.

"A minute ago - you asked me if you'd found what your were running to...and I said I couldn't answer for you. I was wrong. Consider this: what you've been running to - you had all along."

She pulled that thought into her mind and chewed on it... turned it over, examined it from every conceivable angle...and flashes of the last thirty years played out... moments of supreme happiness.

Holding a baby in her arms, laughing out loud to no one when the baby actually burped, just like the baby book said he should. Then the first real bath for her baby, her hands shaking so hard, she'd been certain she'd drown him. Instead, he'd kicked his chubby little legs happily, eyes round with wonder as he felt the water for the first time. He'd giggled then and she'd finally felt in control - felt like a mother.

Then there was the first time they'd gone on a plane. He'd been six and the flight was a total adventure for him. Now of course, Naomi understood how important that trip had been to Blair. But at the time, she'd just sat back and enjoyed.

They'd been on their way to Taos, New Mexico. Another summer retreat but one where she couldn't bear leaving him - so off they flew.

There had been other children on board, younger, older, same age. Some were crying the whole flight, others fought or screamed, and still others sat with earphones, refusing to talk. And then there was Blair.

His eyes went from the window to the cockpit, back and forth, back and forth. She doubted that he'd blinked once during the entire trip. And of course, he'd captivated the stewardesses. So much so that he'd been invited to meet the crew in the cockpit. He'd shyly shaken hands with the pilot and then received a pair of wings with a shocked but happy expression. When the pilot offered to let him touch the controls, he'd blushed and stammered...but ultimately had reached out fearlessly to rub a finger along each control as the pilot pointed them out.

So many moments.

Hugs, kisses, long walks, teaching him to swim, to ride, to read.

Reading. God, how he'd loved books, he used to devour them.

Her joys had been teaching Blair, showing him the world, sharing experiences with him - sharing her world with him.

She'd been both a mother and a friend.

Crazy, yes, out there, definitely. She'd made mistakes, but she'd loved him with all her heart and soul and had given to him, as a mother, just as he'd given to her, as a son.

And yes - Jim was right. She'd discovered herself in the process.

She walked over to the stereo and looked at the many photos perched around it. As she'd done at Collie's, she studied each one, but unlike before, these pictures had no history for her. They represented life for Blair without her.

A couple of them were of Blair on expeditions, smiling, bearded, tan, holding up some artifact. Others were of Blair with Jim, some where they were fishing or kayaking. There was one where Blair was in a tuxedo and looking incredibly handsome and, of course, the one celebrating Blair's return to work after the head injury.

But there was one that really caught her eye - it was beautiful - breathtaking. It had been taken at the beach and obviously recent enough because it was obvious Jim and Blair were a couple. Jim was kneeling in the sand with Blair behind him, arms wrapped around his neck. Blair was smiling into the camera, but Jim - Jim was smiling up at Blair. His soul, heart and love so totally evident, it brought tears to her eyes.

Then her gaze fell on another photo - the last one. Frowning, she wondered how she'd missed it in the days she'd been here. It was of her and Blair taken fourteen years ago in front of the Rainier campus. It was his first day and he was only sixteen. She had her arm around his waist and she was looking at him, and he at her.

How the hell had she missed his expression? She had this photo, had looked at it a million times over the years. In fact, in that first year without him, she'd gazed at it often. And yet - she'd missed the look he'd directed at her - but she saw it now. Saw the love, gratitude and, yes, the freedom. All shining from his eyes.

What had Blair said before the press conference? That he had the brass ring?

And now she could see that she'd had it all along as well. She was Naomi Sandburg; mother, activist, adventurer - but she had a home - had always had one and would always have one.

Her home was Blair.

She smiled over at Jim and said, "You're going to regret this, you know. You're going to be seeing a great deal more of me from now on. Because you're right. I don't need to run anywhere ever again. Thank you — son."

***

Jim walked over to the stereo and checked out the photos that had so enthralled Naomi yesterday. After a few moments, eyes still on them, he pulled open a drawer, lifted out two framed photos and set them down. He'd put them both away the day he'd brought Blair home from the hospital - but now, now he thought it was time they took their place in the Ellison-Sandburg Kodak Corner.

The first had been taken at the beach. Blair was wearing black trunks and a white tank. He was sitting on the sand, a dark blue plastic bucket next to him. He was studiously shoveling sand into it and then packing it down so he could upend it and add the packed sand to the castle he and Jim were building. His hair was blowing in every direction, the tide teasing his bare feet. It was at that moment that Jim had stopped building long enough to grab the camera, say Blair's name and, when he looked up and waved, Jim had snapped the picture. Of course, immediately after, Blair had frowned and told him that he was, "...'posed to be helping build the best castle ever!"

It was the only picture of Blair during his - illness - but it had successfully captured a perfect moment.

His eyes strayed to the other photo, this one freezing for all time a moment of fun, camaraderie, friendship and yes, burgeoning love. It had been taken by Beth Jenkins' husband at the Cascade PD Fourth of July Picnic last year. Major Crime had won the annual softball game, the first time in five years, and were one very hot, sweaty, but jubilant players ready to pose for the championship photo.

Kneeling in the front row, were Rafe, Henri, Blair, Beth and Peter, all holding their bats up, round end pressed to the ground. In the back row, Richard Perkins was on the far left, holding the bottle of champagne while Megan stood next to him and right behind Rafe. Simon was on her other side, grinning broadly and holding the trophy high above everyone's heads. Next to him, stood Jim, both hands resting on Blair's shoulders, completely at ease and smiling almost as broadly as Simon. Next to him stood Luis, one hand on Beth's head - and finally, Martin, the only member not looking at the camera, but instead choosing to look down at the top of Peter's blonde buzz-cut, his smile secret and playful.

It had been a great day.

Good and dear friends captured on film and thus - forever alive - forever together.  
Jim took a last look at the gallery of his life and whispered a grateful, "Thank you." He allowed his gaze to linger on the group photo, at the way he stood so close behind Blair - and nodded to himself. He and Blair had to have been destined to meet again, and he wasn't ashamed to add that he now believed that they'd been destined for each other.

He had no life without Blair -and that was as it should be - for them.

He turned off the last light and walked upstairs.

The moon shone down from the skylight, bathing the bed and its occupants in a silvery haze. Blair lay on his back, sheet resting across his belly. One hand hung over the edge of the bed while the other rested on the second occupant: Katie. She was curled up in the curve of Blair's hip and waist.

Jim couldn't tear his eyes from the sight.

Blair was breathing evenly and completely at ease. As Jim looked at him, he thought that, somehow, the room felt different.

Of course - Mickey was gone.

Grinning, he got out of his clothes and let them drop to the floor. As his shirt swooshed down, Jim shook his head in bewilderment. Clothing left on the floor. Him.

Blair's fault. Yep. All his fault.

Jim climbed into bed, picked up Katie and placed her gently down on the other side, then shifted Blair so that he was nestled against him.

"Ow," Blair mumbled.

"Sorry. Didn't mean to wake you."

"Hair - trapped."

Jim shifted, and heard Blair exhale.

"That's better." Blair turned into Jim and draped an arm across Jim's chest. "What did you do with Katie?"

"She's right here. Can't you hear her snoring?"

"Thought that was you."

Jim pinched him.

"Ouch!"

"Go back to sleep."

Chuckling, Blair said, "Yes, master."

"And don't you forget it. I'm the master of my fate and king of the world."

Blair snorted. "So, king-baby, how'd you like to fool around with a mere peasant first?"

"Been there, done that."

"Damn, I guess that means the bloom is finally off the rose."

Jim chuckled. "I think it would be more appropriate to say that the cherry's been popped."

"What, so now you want to dump me for a younger cherry?"

"Well, now that you mention it--"

Blair pinched him.

"Ouch!"

"Go to sleep," Blair ordered.

"Yes, master."

"Now you're talking. It's good to know your place in life."

Jim squeezed Blair lightly. "Yeah, it is, Chief."

***

_If we do not care for - and protect - our children_  
we can not care for ourselves  
nor protect our future.

Blair Sandburg

 

The End -- Fissures

 

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: These three stories have violence and both Original Character deaths as well as one secondary canon character's death. There is also the death of an animal (which if I were doing these stories today, I'd have found a way to avoid - but I chose to keep it since my only intent is to correct grammar/punctuation, etc, not to significantly change the story). The primary subject matter is child abuse and can be stressful to read parts of them. The child abuse is in the form of physical and mental (not sexual). This trilogy is most definitely rated R.


End file.
